Sheldon  it  Company's  Text-^ooks, 


The  Science  of  Government  in  Connection  tvith 
American  Institutions.  By  Joseph  Alden,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
Free,  of  State  Normal  School,  Albany.    1  vol  12mo. 


»#  TTi^K    0„V^^1~   «_J   i^-11 


mment,  in 
iO  wants  of 
i  answers. 


t  thoronghly 
ine  has  saicf, 
taught  tho*;e 
1,  <and  whicli 
forthwith  to 
whereby  the 


n  the  Re- 

ipire,  A.  D. 

By  Dr. 

Y  Francis 

ability,  and 
unan  mind, 
phy. 

houffht : 

kM  ThOM- 

vol.  12mo. 
■yard,  Tale, 

ience  of 

>f  Oberlin 


itherto  heen 

d  in  benevo- 

lence, ana  matau  lorras  oi  virmous  acnon  are  monmcjuions  oi  luia  principle. 

After  nrcpenting  this  view  of  oblii?ation,  the  author  takes  up  the  questions  of 
Practical  Bthics,  Government  and  Personal  Rights  and  Diities,  and  treats 
tk«n  in  their  relation  to  Benevolence,  aiming  at  a  solution  of  the  problems  of 
right  and  wrong  upon  this  simple  principle. 


Any  of  the  above  emU  by  mail,  voit-pcdd,  op  receipt  of  prict. 


Sheldon  &  Company's  Text- Spooks. 

HISTOEIES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

By  Benson  J.  Losslng,  author  of  "  Field-Book  of  the  Revolu- 
tion," "Illustrated.  Family  History  of  the  United  States,"  &c. 


LiOssinff*s  Prim  a  2' 1/  History,    For  Beginners.    A  charm- 
ing little  book.    Elegantly  illustrated.    23b  pages. 

Lossinf/'s  Outline  History  of  the  United  States,    One 

volume,  12mo.  We  invite  the  careful  attention  of 

teachers  to  some  of  its  leading  points.  In  elegance  of  appear- 
ance and  copioua  iUustrationg,  both  by  pictures  and  maps,  we 
think  it  surpasses  any  book  of  the  kind  yet  published. 

1.  The  work  is  marked  by  uucoinmon  clearness  of  statement. 

2.  The  narravive  is  divided  into  SIX  UlSTINVT  rJhltlOUS,  namely: 
Discoveries,  Settlements,  Colonies,  Ihe  Jievolution,  Ihe  Kation, 
and  The  Civil   War  and  its  consequences. 

3.  The  work  is  arranf/ed  in  short  sentences,  so  that  the  substance  of 
each  may  be  easily  comprehended. 

4.  The  jnost  important  events  are  indicated  in  the  text  by  lieavy- 
faeed  letter. 

J.  J-'ull  Questions  are  fraro ed  for  every  verse. 

0.  A  Jfronouncing  Vocabulary  is  furnished  in  foot-notes  wiierevc*- 
required. 

7.  ^  lirief  Synopsis  of  topics  is  given  at  the  close  of  cacJi  section, 

8.  An  Outline  History  of  IMPORTANT  EVENTS  is  given  at  the  close 
of  every  chapter. 

9.  The  work  is  itrofusely  illustrated  by  Maps.  Charts  and  Plans  ex- 
planatory of  the  text,  and  by  carefully -drawn  pictures  of  objects  and  events. 

Lossiuff^H   Common  School  History,    383  pa<?es. 

Containing   the   National   ConsUtution,  Declaration  of 
Independence,  Biographies  of  the  Presidents,  and  Questions. 

This  work  is  arranged  in  six  chapters,  each  containing  the  record  of  an  im- 
portant period.  The  First  exhibits  a  general  view  of  the  Aboriginal  race 
who  occupied  the  continent  when  the  Europeans  came.    The  Second  is  a 


record  of  all  the  Discoveries  and  preparations  for  settlement  made  by  indi- 
viduals and  governments.  The  Third  delineates  the  progress  of  all  llie  Settle- 
ments nntilcoionial  governments  were  formed.    The  Fourth  tells  the  story 


of  the*;e  Colonies  from  their  infancy  to  maturity,  and  illustrates  the  contiminl 
development  of  democrntic  ideas  "and  republican  tendencies  which  finally 
resulted  in  a  political  confederation.  The  Fifth  has  a  full  account  of  the  iiu- 
portant  c\ent8  of  the  War  for  Inde/>endence  ;  and  the  Sixth  gives  a  con- 
cise History  of  the  Republic  from  its  formation  to  the  present  time. 


These  book«>  are  designed  for  different  grades  of  pupils,  and  adapted  to  the 
time  UHuaHy  allowed  for  the  study  of  thi-  important  subjet;t.  Each  embraco& 
the  history  of  our  country  from  its  discovery  to  its  present  administration. 
Tlie  entire  series  is  characterize<l  by  chasienoss  and  clearness  of  style,  accuracy 
of  statement,  beauty  of  typography,  and  fullness  of  illustration.  The  author 
has  spent  the  LTcnter  part  of  his  liie  in  collecting  materias  for,  and  in  writing 
history,  and  his  ability  and  reputation  are  a  sufficient  gnarairtee  tliat  the  work 
baa  been  thoroughly  done,  and  a  series  of  histories  produced  that  will  be  in- 
vatoable  in  training  and  educating  the  youth  of  our  country. 


K^/()X.rM/tJ-^. 


/ 


LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 


I 


■^h^^^^^i 


LECTURES 


ox 


MORAL     SCIENCE. 


DKLIVKRED  BKFORE  THE 


LOWELL  INSTITUTE,  BOSTON 


BY 


MARK  HOPKINS,  D.D.LL.D. 

rSKSIDENT  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLKGK;  AUTHOR  OK "LECTURES 
OV    TJIK  EVIUENCKg  OF  C  H  R  I  ST  I  A  M  I  TT,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

Sheldon  &  Company, 

No.  8  MURRAY  STREET. 
1876. 


EDGC. 
DEFT. 


BDUOATJON  DEPTo 


Entered  According  to  Act,  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

GOULD    AND    LINCOLN, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


TO 


C^t  (Srabuates  of  MiUmms  Colkg^ 


SINCE    1830. 


Permit  mc,  my  friende,  n  word  of  explanation  with  those  of  you  who  may 
read  the  following  Lectures.  It  seemg  called  ioi  by  the  difference  between 
them  now,  and  when  they  were  heard  by  the  moBt  of  you. 

In  18M  I  was  elected  to  the  Professorship  of  Rhetoric  and  Moral  Phi- 
losophy in  this  college,  and  during  the  first  year  prepared  and  delivered 
twelve  Lectures  on  Moral  Philosophy.  Of  these,  omitting  the  introductory 
one,  the  first  paragraph  was  the  following:  "If  the  human  constitution 
was  made  by  a  wise  and  good  being,  it  must  have  been  made  for  certain 
ends ;  and  In  those  ends,  whatever  they  may  be,  and  nowhere  else,  can  its 
perfection  and  happiness  be  found.  To  discover  these  ends  and  the  means 
of  attaining  them,  is  the  object  of  Moral  Philosophy."  Then  followed  such 
an  examination  of  the  constitution  of  man  as  I  was  able  to  make.  This 
shows  that  the  present  lectures  are  but  the  carrying  out  of  my  original 
thought;  but  that  those  lectures  should  have  been  delivered  for  more  than 
twenty-five  years  without  essential  alteration  is  what  requires  explanation, 
if  not  apology. 

The  explanation  is,  chiefly,  ftom  the  pressure  of  other  duties.  During 
the  remaining  years  of  my  professorship,  my  leisure  was  occupied  witli 
lectures  on  Rhetoric  and  Natural  Theology,  in  oonuectiou  with  extra  duties 
imposed  by  the  decllning^  he.iltlj  of  Dr.  Griffin.    Subsequently,  and  till  I860, 


Tin 


those  of  you  then  here  will  remember  our  studies  together  in  Anntomy, 
and  Mental  Philosophy,  and  Moral  Philosophy,  and  Natirral  Theology,  and 
Butler's  Analogy,  and  Vincent.  Add  to  these,  preaching;  the  administra- 
tive labor  incident  to  my  position ;  the  publication  of  between  forty  and 
fifty  pamphlets,  and  of  a  volume  on  the  Kvidences  of  Christianity,  and  it 
may  not  seem  strange  that  when  the  years  came  round,  as  they  seemed  to, 
with  increasing  rapidity,  I  was  only  able  to  give  the  lecture  as  they  were. 
Always  feeling  that  my  first  duty  was  in  the  class-room,  my  strength  sim- 
ply sufficed  for  the  demands  of  the  passing  day.  In  1855  the  Rhetoric  of 
the  class  passed  into  other  hands,  but  so  much  of  work  still  remained  that 
a  revision  of  the  Lectures  was  not  undertaken  till  1858.  In  the  winter  of 
18C1,  the  course,  with  the  exception  of  the  last  lecture,  for  which  there  was 
Uot  time,  was  delivered  before  the  Lowell  Institute. 

When  the  Lectures  were  first  written,  the  text-book  here,  and  generally 
in  our  colleges,  was  Paley.  Not  agreeing  with  him,  and  failing  to  carry  out 
fully  the  doctrine  of  ends,  I  adopted  that  of  an  ultimate  right,  as  taught  by 
Kant  and*  Coleridge,  making  that  the  end.  If,  therefore,  any  of  you  still 
hold  that  view,  — as  doubtless  many  do,  — it  is  not  for  me  to  say  that  you 
have  not  good  authority  for  it,  or  to  complain  if  you  object  to  that  now 
taken. 

But  whatever  may  be  said  of  this  central  point,  the  Lectures  have  been 

much  changed  in  other  respects,  and,  as  I  hope,  improved.     Such  as  they 

arc,  with  thankfulness  that  I  am  permitted  to  address  so  many  of  you,  and 

with  many  pleasant  recollections  of  our  former  discussions  on  this  subject, 

they  are  now  committed  to  your  candid  and  indulgent  consideration. 

Your  sincere  Friend, 

UABK  HOPKINS. 

Wn-Llk^M  gOLXJIOE,  0CT09UB  1,  1862. 


PREFACE 


Philosophy  investigates  causes,  unities,  and  ends. 
Of  these  it  is  the  last  two  that  are  chiefly  considered  in 
the  following  lectures.  "  Happy,"  it  has  been  said,  "  is 
he  who  knows  the  causes  of  things."  But  in  a  world 
where  there  are  so  many  apparent  discrepancies  both 
natural  and  moral,  he  must  be  more  happy  who  knows 
the  arrangement  of  things  into  systems,  and  sees  how 
all  these  systems  go  to  make  up  one  greater  system  and 
to  promote  a  common  end.  An  investigation  of  causes 
respects  the  past ;  of  unities  and  ends,  the  present  and 
the  future.  Of  these  the  latter  are  more  intimate  to 
us,  and  he  who  can  trace  the  principle  of  unity  by  which 
nature  is  harmonized  with  herself,  and  man  with  nature, 
and  man  with  himself,  and  the  individual  with  society, 


X  PREFACE. 

and  man  with  God,  —  who  can  see  in  all  these  a  com- 
plex unity  and  can  apprehend  their  end,  —  will  have  an 
element  of  satisfaction  far  greater  than  he  who  should 
know  the  causes  of  all  things  without  being  able  to 
unravel  their  perplexities. 

From  the  place  assigned  to  Moral  Philosophy  in  the 
classification  adopted  in  these  lectures,  an  incidental 
consideration  of  the  above  harmonies  seemed  to  be 
required.  Hence  it  is  hoped  that  the  book  may  con- 
tain suggestions  that  will  be  valuable  to  some  who  may 
not  agree  with  its  doctrines  on  the  particular  subject 
of  morals.  It  is  particularly  hoped  that  it  may  do 
something  towards  introducing  more  of  unity  into  the 
courses  of  study,  or  some  of  them,  in  our  higher  semi- 
naries. If  the  works  of  God,  regarded  as  an  expression 
of  his  thought,  are  built  up  after  a  certain  method,  it 
deserves  to  be  considered  whether  that  thought  will  not 
be  best  reached  by  following  in  their  study  the  order 
that  has  been  followed  in  their  construction,  and  which 
ii  involved  in  that  method.     Something  of  this  I  have 


PREFACE,  XJ 

long  aimed  to  do  in  my  instructions,  and  with  very 
perceptible  advantage.  With  suitable  texl^books  and  a 
right  arrangement  of  studies,  much  more  might  doubt- 
less be  done. 

Li  treating  of  any  natural  system,  as  each  part 
implies  all  the  others,  wherever  we  begin,  and  what- 
ever method  we  follow,  we  are  compelled  to  use  terms 
whose  full  meaning  can  be  reached  only  in  the  progress 
of  the  investigation.  This  is  -particularly  true  when,  as 
in  the  present  instance,  instead  of  beginning  with  defi- 
nitions, we  seek  for  them.  For  this  it  is  hoped  that 
due  allowance  may  be  made. 

It  will  be  seen  that  important,  and  even  cardinal 
points,  are  often  but  briefly  touched  in  these  discus- 
sions. I  can  only  say  that  the  work  is,  of  necessity, 
suggestive  rather  than  exhaustive,  and  that  if  these 
points  are  so  treated  as  to  show  their  place  in  the  sys- 
tem, the  outline  may  be  readily  filled  up. 

For  remarks  upon  the  present  condition  of  the  sci- 
ence, and  for  the  general  course  of  thought  pursued, 


Xn  /PREFACE. 

the  reader  is  referred  to  the  opening  lecture,  and  to  th<j 
summary  at  the  close. 

English  literature  is  rich  in  ethical  speculation.  Sev- 
eral valuable  treatises  have  recently  been  published  in 
this  country ;  but  the  ground  of  classification,  and  the 
general  aspects  and  connections  of  the  subject,  as  pre- 
sented in  the  following  lectures,  are  so  far  dififerent 
from  others,  that  it  is  hoped  something  may  be  gained 
to  the  science  by  their  publication.  To  the  authors  of 
the  treatises  above  referred  to,  and  also  to  the  friends 
who  have  aided  me  by  their  suggestions,  I  desire  to 
express  my  indebtedness. 

I  will  only  add,  that  the  work  is  written  in  the  interest 
of  truth,  and  not  controversially. 


CONTENTS 


LECTUKE    I. 

MORAL  SCIENXE  AND  ASTROXOMY.— KEASOXB  FOR  THE  SLOWER  FROORKSS  OF 
THE  FORMER.— PROGRESS  MUST  RE  SLOW.  —  TWO  CLASSES  OF  SCIENCES. 
—  USK  OF  STUUTIXa  THK  SCIENCE, 17 


LECTURE    II. 

THREE  QUESTIONS. —  THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  ENDS.  — AN  END  ATTAIXKIl 
IN  THREE  WAYS.  — ENDS  SUBORDINATE,  ULTIMATE,  AND  SUPRE.ME.  — AN 
END  INVOLVES  A  GOOD.— THE  NATURE  OF  GOOD  AS  FROM  ACTIVITY.— 
TUB  OBEATEST  GOOD, 39 


LECTURE    III. 

KINDS  or  OOOD.  — SUSCKI>TIBILITIK!4  AND  POWKRR.  —  OOOD  A.S  HIUHER 
AXD  LOWER.  —  FORCES  AND  FACULTIES  — THEIR  SUBORDINATION.  — THE 
LAW  or  LIMITATION.— METHODS  OF  ADDITION  AND  OF  DEVELOPMENT  — 

NATURAL  AND  CHRISTIAN   LAW  OF  SELF-DENIAL, ,,.,,,  59 

2  ZIIl 


HV  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE    IV. 


RELATION-  OF  INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  —  SPONTANEOUS 
AND  VOLUNTARY  ACTIVITY.  —  FACULTIES  INSTRUMENTAL  AND  ULTI- 
MATE. —  INSTINCT.  —  THE  APPETITES.  —  NATURAL  —  ARTIFICIAL.  —  THE 
DESIRES.  —  CLASSIFICATION  OF  THEM.  —  DESIRE  OF  CONTINUED  EXIST- 
ENCE,   70 


LECTURE    V. 

DESIRE  OF  PROPERTY.  — AVARICE. —  niiSIIlE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  —  DESIRE  OF 
POWER. —  INFLUENCE. —  EMULATION. —  DESIRE  OF  ESTEEM.  —  DESIRE  OK 
GLORY, 102 


LECTURE    VI. 


THE  AFFECTIONS.  —  NATURAL  AND  MORAL. —BENEVOLENT.  —  DEFENSIVE 
AND  PUNITIVE. —  ORIGIN  OF  MALEVOLENT  AFFECTIONS.  — FORGIVENESS. 
—  HOW  SUBJECT  TO  WILL.  —  THE  INTELLECT.  —  LOVE  OF  TRUTH,    .    ,  129 


LECTURE    VII. 


THE  MORAL  NATURE.  —  HKASOX.  —  IDEAS  OK  DIKKEKKNT  ORDERS.  —  HAVE 
AN  ORDER  OK  DKVKLOrMEXT.  —  KREE-WILL.  —  PERSONALITY.  —  ACTION 
TO    WHICH    RESPONSIBILITY    ATTACHES.  —  ALL    MORAL    PHENOMENA    IN 


CONTENTS.  XV 

CONNECTION  WITH  TlTE  CHOXCB  OF  A  SUPREME  END.  — CONSCIENCE. — 
THE  3IOnAL  NATUHE  DOUBLE  —  THE  HIGHEST  C.OOU.  — COINCIDENCE  OF 
NATURAL  AND  REVEALED  LAW, 157 


LECTURE    VIII. 

RELATION  OF  VIRTUE  TO  HAPIMNESS.  —  QUANTITY  AND  QUALITY  OF  GOOD 
—  MORAL  AND  NATURAL  GOOD.  — IIEOARD  FOR  OUR  OWN  (iOOD.  — CON- 
NECTION AVITH  BENEVOLENCE.  — ENJOYMENT  FROM  APFROBATION. — 
THE  TRUE  END  OF  MAN. —  CONNECTION  BETWEEN  MORAL  AND  NATURAL 
GOOD, 181 


LECTURE    IX. 


THE  SPHERE  OK  MORAL  SCIENCE. —  RIGHT  AND  WRONG.  —  DEFINITION  OF 
TERMS.  —  PROVINCE  OF  CONSCIENCE.  —  HOW  FAR  INFALLIBLE.  —  TWO 
SPHERES.- DIVERSITY  OF  MORAL  JUDGMENTS.  —  CRISES  OF  LIFE.  — RE- 
LATION OF  CONSCIBSCK  TO  OTHER  PRINCIPLES  OF  ACTION.— COMPLEX- 
ITY OF  MOTIVES.  —  MUST  A  VIRTUOUS  ACT  BE  FROM  A  SENSE  OF 
DUTY? 205 


LECTURE    X. 


RrCTITUDK     AND     VIRTUE.  —  RELATIONS.  —  EXPEDIENCY,    PRUDENCE,     AND 
VIRTUE. —  ORIGIN   OF  MORAL  DLSTINCTIONS  .\S  RELATED  TO  THE  DIVINE 

XATrn:;— COINCIDENCE   or   instin<-t   and   reason  —  of   faith   and 

BXASOlf  — OK  philosophy   AND   RELIGION, ?.J8 


XTI  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE    XI. 

RinllTS.  —  THEIR  ORIGIN  AND  KINDS.  —  ALIENABLE  —  INALIENABLE.  — 
SLAVERY.  —  RIGHTS  OF  PERSONS  AND  OF  THINGS.  —  GIVING  AND  RE- 
CEIVING.—RIGHTS  OF  GOVERNMENT.  — LIBERTY  AS  RELATED  TO  RIGHTS. 
—  DIFFERENT   KINDS  OF  LIBERTY  —  NATURAL,  CIVIL,  POLITICAL,  .    .    253 


LECTURE    XII. 

A    FUTtTRE    LIFE.— ITS    RELATION    TO   MORALITY.— THE    PHYSICAL    AfiOIT- 
MENT.  —  MORAL  ARGUMENTS, 277 


SUMMARY 296 


LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE, 


LECTURE    I. 

JiOBAL  SCIENCE  AND  ASTRONOMY.— REASONS  FOR  THE  SLOWER  PROGRESS  OF 
THE  FORMER.  — PROGRESS  MUST  BE  SLOW.  — TWO  CLASSES  OF  SCIENCES. 
—  USB  OF  STUDYING  THE  SCIENCE. 

Among  the  sciences  which  earliest  drew  the  attention 
of  man  were  those  of  Astronomy  and  Morals.  Of  these, 
one  respects  the  sources  of  that  light  which  is  from  with- 
out, the  other  of  that  which  is  Avithin.  Of  the  one,  the 
objects  and  phenomena  are  not  only  without  us,  but  are 
separated  from  us  by  inconceivable  distances ;  of  the  other, 
the  phenomena  are  not  only  within  us,  but  belong  to  that 
part  of  our  nature  which  is  special  to  us,  and  whose  circle 
lies  nearest  to  its  central  point. 

Connected  with  each  are  practical  judgments  common 
to  all.  Both  the  heavens  and  the  moral  nature  of  man 
yielded  him  guidance  before  there  was  a  thought  of  the 
science  of  either.  The  unscientific  man  rejoices  in  the 
light  that  comes  from  Arcturus  no  less  than  if  he  could 
analyze  its  beams,  and  is  guided  by  the  polar  star  no  less 
■urely  than  if  he  could  measure  its  magnitude  and  dis* 
tance.  The  day  and  the  night,  the  changing  moons  and 
>*  17 


18j ; «:  «/:;*'/t.EfcTdRf;&  pif  moral  science. 

the  revolving  seasons,  are  alike  to  all.  In  the  same  way 
men  agree  in  their  practical  judgments  on  the  great  sub- 
jects of  morals.  By  their  original  nature  there  is  within 
them  a  guiding  light  by  which  the  learned  and  unlearned 
alike  may  walk.  But  in  either  case,  when  science  began 
its  work,  and  asked  for  causes,  and  reasons,  and  classifica- 
tions, there  were  conjectures  and  diversities  of  opinion 
without  end.  Of  the  apparent  Qiovement  of  the  heavens, 
and  of  a  virtuous  or  heroic  act,  men  judged  alike;  of  the 
cause  of  that  movement,  or  of  the  nature  of  virtue  itself, 
they  did  not  judge  alike.  Practically,  men  could  agree  in 
both;  but  in  everything  pertainhig  to  the  science  of  either, 
nothing  could  be  more  discrepant  than  their  opinions,  or, 
for  ages,  more  discouraging  and  apparently  hopeless  than 
the  attempt  to  establish  any  one  doctrine  that  should  be 
generally  accepted. 

If,  now,  the  inquiry  had  been  made  in  the  early  period 
of  these  sciences  which  of  them  would  soonest  reach 
perfection,  the  unhesitating  answer  would  doubtless  have 
been,  —  that  of  which  the  phenomena  are  within  us,  which 
are  immediately  testified  to  by  our  consciousness,  and  are 
always  subject  to  our  notice.  Whether  man  would  ever 
be  able  to  perfect  a  science  of  the  heavens,  might  well  have 
been  doubted ;  but  that  he  should  do  this  sooner  than  per- 
fect the  science  of  that  which  pertained  to  his  own  most 
intimate  being,  and  which  stood  in  the  closest  relation  to 
his  highest  interests,  could  not  have  been  believed.  But 
so  it  has  been.  After  ages  of  observation  and  conjecture, 
during  which  the  phenomena  seemed  in  hopeless  confu- 
sion; after  exhausting  the  efforts  of  some  of  the  best  minds 
in  every  age,  the  central  truth  of  astronomy  at  length 
dawned,  and  the  chaos  of  conjecture  became  the  order  of 
icience,     From  a  scieRce  of  observation,  astronomy  has 


MORAL  SCIENCE  AND  ASTRONOMY.  19 

now  become  one  of  deduction,  anvi  if  not  altogether  com- 
plete, is  more  nearly  so  than  any  other. 

The  success  thus  achieved  in  the  field  of  astronomy  was 
a  great  stimulus  and  encouragement  to  effort  in  other  de- 
partments. From  the  vastness  of  its  distances,  the  magni- 
tude of  its  objects,  the  complexity  of  its  phenomena,  and 
from  its  inconceivable  forces  and  velocities,  there  was  con- 
nected with  success  here  an  excitement  and  sublimity 
which  greatly  heightened  the  purely  scientific  pleasure, 
and  which  inspired  a  confidence  of  future  triumphs  in 
whatever  should  be  attempted.  Nor  was  this  confidence 
without  a  basis.  In  the  advance  of  every  form  of  physical 
science  then  known,  no  period  of  the  world  can  be  com- 
pared with  that  since  the  time  of  Kepler  and  of  Newton. 
Meantime,  forms  of  science  then  unknown,  as  chemistry 
and  geology,  liave  sprung  into  giant  proportions;  while 
the  application  of  science  to  the  arts,  emj^loying  every 
substance,  and  harnessing  every  force  in  nature  for  the 
service  of  man,  is  revolutionizing  not  only  society,  but  the 
face  of  nature  herself. 

In  mental  and  moral  science  there  has,  too,  been  greater 
activity  than  ever  before;  but  we  are  not,  perhaps,  in  a 
position  as  yet  to  say  how  much  there  has  been  of  prog- 
ress. There  are  still  discordant  voices,  and  different 
schools,  and  those  that  say  "Lo,  here,"  and  "Lo,  there;" 
and  perhaps  the  variety  of  systems  proposed,  especiaUy  in 
morals,  was  never  greater. 

Thus  situated,  it  is  an  encoui-agement  to  think  of  the 
seas  of  doubt  through  which  astronomy  has  waded.  Wo 
remember  that  the  perplexities  of  its  votaries  were  once 
as  great  as  ours  can  be  now,  and  hope  for  a  similar  deliver- 
ance. The  end  of  investigation  is  attained  when  we  either 
comprehend  all  that  is  brought  befpre  us,  or  cap  draw  tbo 


20  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

line  which  shall  fix  the  natural  limits  set  by  God  to  our 
knowledge;  and  we  are  not  of  that  desponding,  or  rather 
indolent  class,  who  distrust  the  powers  of  the  human  mind 
to  do,  in  all  cases,  one  or  the  other  of  these. 

So  far  as  our  present  subject  is  concerned,  it  may  aid  us 
in  doing  this  if  we  inquire  for  a  little  how  it  has  happened 
that  physical  science,  and  especially  astronomy,  has  so  far 
outstripped  moral  science.  What  are  the  caases  of  a  re- 
sult so  impossible  to  have  been  anticipated  ? 

And  first,  we  may  mention  a  difficulty  much  insisted  on 
by  Chalmers,  as  pertaining  to  the  observation  of  all  men- 
tal phenomena.  This  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  mind  is 
both  the  observer  and  the  thing  observed,  and  that  some 
of  its  states  at  least  (they  say  all)  are  of  such  a  charac- 
ter as  to  preclude  examination  at  the  moment  they  exist. 
Thus,  when  a  man  is  thoroughly  angry  his  w^hole  thought 
is  directed  to  the  object  of  his  anger,  and  nothing  can  be 
conceived  more  incompatible  with  the  state  of  an  angry 
man  than  that  he  should  be  engaged  in  taking  psychologi- 
cal observations  on  himself.  The  moment  he  turns  his 
attention  from  the  object  of  his  anger  to  himself  for  the 
purpose  of  observing  it,  the  anger  is  gone.  It  cannot^ 
therefore,  be  studied  directly,  as  we  study  the  objects  of 
our  senses,  but  only  as  it  is  remembered. 

This  holds  in  all  cases  of  violent  emotion  and  should 
have  its  just  weight,  but  not  in  the  ordinary  states  of 
thought  and  feeling.  If  the  view  of  Chalmers  and  of 
Brown  before  him  were  adopted  in  its  strictness,  no  man 
would  ever  know  his  own  present  state,  but  only  the 
states  he  had  been  in,  and  so  could  never  deal  with  his 
present,  but  only  with  his  past  self.  The  moment  his 
attention  should  be  so  far  called  to  himself  as  to  inquire 
whether  he  was  angry,  his  anger  must  cease;    and  tho 


IlEASOi^S  FOR  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  21 

prophet  of  old  who  thought  he  was  angry,  and  said  he  did 
well  to  be,  was  mistaken.  In  thinking,  we  know  not  only 
the  object  of  our  thought,  but  ourselves  as  thinking.  The 
consciousness  is  so  far  complex  as  to  embrace  both.  So  in 
the  feelings.  There  is  no  more  difficulty  in  supposing  such 
a  complexity  of  the  consciousness  as  to  embrace  both  an 
act  and  a  feeling  caused  by  an  act,  than  there  is  in  suppos- 
ing that  the  same  consciousness  can  embrace  the  remem- 
brance of  an  act  and  the  feeling  caused  by  that  remem- 
brance. 

There  is  doubtless  at  this  point  a  real  difficulty,  but  we 
think  it  less  formidable  than  it  is  made  by  Chalmers  and 
others. 

To  a  successful  investigation  the  first  requisite  is  a  clear 
apprehension  of  the  subject  to  be  investigated  as  distin- 
guished from  everything  with  which  it  may  be  confounded, 
or  to  which  it  is  related.  This  discrimination  in  regard  to 
morals  has  often  failed  to  be  made.  This  is  the  second 
reason. 

Language  accommodates  itself,  after  a  time,  to  the  exi- 
gencies of  thought ;  and  when  clear  discriminations  are  gen- 
erally or  persistently  made,  there  will  be  terms  to  express 
them.  In  the  Latin  language,  the  word  for  conscience  and 
for  consciousness  was  the  same ;  it  is  so  still  in  the  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish,  and  this  was  formerly  true  of  the 
English.  But  if  the  moral  consciousness  were  not  now 
partitioned  off,  and  its  phenomena  grouped  by  a  word  of 
its  owh,  we  may  easily  see  how  difficult  it  would  be  to  dis- 
entangle those  phenomena  from  the  mass  of  other  things 
covered  by  the  same  word;  and  while  the  language  re- 
mained in  that  state  it  was  scarcely  possible  that  much 
progress  should  be  made  in  the  science.  But  as  thought 
was  concentrated  and  analysis  progressed,  that  which  waa 


22  LECTtjRES  ON  MORAL  SClllNCfi. 

Consciousness  par  eminence,  the  moral  consciousness,  a.\ 
propriated  the  term  conscience ;  and  yet  no  one  can  now 
read  even  the  scientific  writers  on  the  subject  and  not  per- 
ceive that  they  still  use  the  tei-m  with  a  wide  diversity  of 
signification. 

It  was  this  state  of  the  language,  or  more  properly  of 
the  public  mind  represented  by  it,  that  rendered  possible 
in  the  Scotch  universities  such  a  state  of  things  as  is  com- 
plained of  by  Chalmers.  He  says:  "In  the  hands  of 
some  of  our  most  celebrated  professors,  it"  (t.  e.  moral 
philosophy)  "has  been  made  to  usurp  the  whole  domain 
of  humanity,  insomuch  that  every  emotion  which  the 
heart  can  feel,  and  every  deed  which  the  hand  can  per- 
form, have,  in  every  one  aspect,  whether  relating  to  moral 
character  or  not,  come  under  the  cognizance  of  moral  phi- 
losophy." He  calls  the  science  as  there  treated  "  a  strange 
concretion,"  "  a  vast  and  varied  miscellany,"  which  he 
wished  "  to  marshal  aright  into  proper  and  distinct  groups." 

How  this  subject  has  been  regarded  in  England  we 
may  learn  from  an  introductory  lecture  to  a  course  on 
Moral  Philosophy  delivered  in  London  by  Sidney  Smith. 
"Moral  philosophy,"  he  says,  "properly  speaking,  is  con- 
trasted to  natural  philosophy ;  comprehending  everything 
spiritual,  as  that  comprehends  everything  corporeal,  and 
constituting  the  most  difficult  and  the  most  sublime  of 
those  two  divisions  under  which  all  human  knowledge 
must  be  arranged."  "  In  this  sense,"  he  proceeds,  "  Moral 
Philosophy  is  used  by  Berkley,  by  Hartley,  by  Hutcheson, 
by  Adam  Smith,  by  Howe,  by  Reid,  and  by  Stewart. 
In  this  sense  it  is  taught  in  the  Scotch  universities, 
wliere  alone  it  is  taught  in  this  island ;  and  in  this  s^nse 
it  comprehends  all  the  intellectual,  active  and  moral  facul 
ties  of  man  j   the  laws  by  which  they  are  governed  j.  the 


REASONS  FOR  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  23 

limits  by  which  they  are  controlled,  and  the  means  by 
which  they  may  be  improved."  In  accordance  with  this, 
we  find  in  his  course,  lectures  on  external  perception,  on 
taste,  and  on  wit  and  humor,  while  in  his  whole  twenty- 
seven  lectures  he  did  not  treat  of  the  conscience,  or  of 
right  and  wrong,  at  all. 

Such  a  blending  of  departments,  all  covered  by  one 
name,  in  a  single  professorship,  could  not  be  favorable  to 
accurate  analysis.  There  were  reasons  for  it.  Mental  and 
moral  science  are  nearly  related ;  but  all  knowledge  is 
related  to  all  other  knowledge  at  some  points,  and  it  would 
be  scarcely  more  incongruous  to  assign  geogi*aphy  to  the 
astronomer  because  the  earth  is  one  of  the  planets,  than 
to  group  external  perception  and  the  knowledge  of  duty 
under  the  same  science  because  they  both  belong  to  the 
mind. 

A  third  cause  of  the  slower  progress  of  moral  science 
is  its  greater  complexity. 

All  science  supposes  uniformity  in  the  phenomena,  and 
so,  in  their  cause  or  law,  which  is  what  science  seeks.  If 
there  be  no  cause  acting  uniformly,  and  tending  to  entire 
uniformity  of  results,  there  is  no  basis  for  science.  But 
with  such  a  cause,  the  complexity  will  be  in  proportion  to 
the  number  of  disturbing  forces  that  may  come  in  between 
it  and  the  phenomena  as  seen  by  us.  In  astronomy  these 
disturbing  causes  are  comparatively  few.  Gravitation 
towards  the  sun  only,  would  cause  the  planets  to  move 
in  a  perfect  ellipse.  But  none  of  them  do  thus  move,  and 
it  is  obvious  that  disturbing  forces  might  be  multiplied  so 
an  tt»  render  a  science  of  the  stars,  or  at  least  any  other 
tlian  a  hypothetical  one,  impossible.  Here  lies  the  obstacle 
to  a  science  of  the  winds.  There  is  doubtless  uniformity 
of  causation,  but  the  phenomcnji,  as  known  to  us,  are  bo 


^  tECTtmES  ON  MORAL  SCIENOE. 

modiiied  that  we  cannot  trace  eacli  one  back  to  its  cause, 
or  predict  the  future.  So  of  human  conduct.  Men  are 
themselves  unlike,  and  in  endless  variety.  Motives  are 
complex.  The  effects  of  education,  of  social  position,  of 
political  institutions  and  of  climate,  are  to  be  estimated; 
and  even  though  all  the  actions  of  men  might  be  referrea 
to  one  principle,  it  would  be  impossible  to  trace  them  to 
it,  or  to  predict  with  certainty  the  course  of  any  one  indi- 
vidual under  its  guidance. 

When  we  look,  then,  at  this  greater  complexity,  and 
remember  that  the  study  of  processes  within  us,  mental 
and  moral,  is  connected  with  no  such  pleasure  as  observa- 
tion by  the  senses,  and  can  have  no  such  aid  from  others, 
we  find  a  reason  of  no  little  weight  for  the  slower  progress 
of  this  science. 

A  fourth  reason  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact,  which  we 
should  not  have  anticipated,  that  the  nearer  we  come  to 
that  in  our  being  which  is  most  intimate  and  central, 
which  is  our  very  self,  the  more  difficult  observation 
and  analysis  become. 

As  early,  certainly,  as  the  time  of  Cicero,  the  mind  was 
compared  to  the  eye,  because  that  sees  other  things  but 
not  itself.  The  power  of  making  itself  an  object  to  itself 
belongs  to  the  mind  of  man  as  he  is  distinguished  from 
the  brutes ;  it  is  the  last  power  that  is  developed,  and  in 
most  men  is  scarcely  developed  at  all.  But  where  this 
power  is  developed  it  begins  with  those  phenomena  which 
are  most  outward  and  least  essential.  Hence,  not  only  in 
matter,  but  in  mind,  completed  science  will  probably  travel 
from  that  which  is  more  remote,  or  more  outward,  to  that 
which  is  nearer,  or  more  inward. 

It  is  now  generally  conceded  that  there  are  two  kinds 
of  knowledge,  or  cognitions,  —  one    which    we   gain   o^ 


REASONS  FOR  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  25 

and  from,  the  external  world  through  the  senses ;  and  the 
other  that  which  springs  from  the  mind  itself  after  its 
powers  have  been  waked  into  consciousness.  It  is  not 
supposed  that  there  are  innate  ideas,  but  that  the  mind 
has  fixed  capacities  by  which,  in  connection  with  the  exer- 
cise of  consciousness,  it  necessarily  and  universally  forms 
certain  ideas  and  affirms  certain  truths.  These  ideas  and 
truths,  if  such  there  are,  must  be  more  intimate  to  us  than 
any  other  part  of  our  mental  furniture  ;  but  it  is  precisely 
respecting  these,  and  the  field  which  they  claim,  that  the 
most  subtle  and  difficult  of  all  the  problems  in  philosophy 
have  arisen.  That  we  have  ideas  through  the  senses  no 
one  has  ever  doubted,  and  they  are  readily  classified  and 
their  characteristics  given  ;  but  nothing  could  more  strik- 
ingly illustrate  my  present  point  than  the  fact  that  the 
very  existence  of  any  such  truths  and  ideas  as  those  just 
mentioned  has  been  doubted,  and  still  is.  The  reception 
or  rejection  of  these  cognitions  as  elements  of  philosophy 
has  been  the  dividing  line  between  its  diffi?rent  schools 
from  Plato  down.  Probably  the  preponderance  in  num- 
bers has  been  against  them,  and  even  now  they  are  re- 
jected by  such  men  as  Comte  and  Mill. 

As  we  should  anticipate  from  the  fact  just  stated,  the 
advocates  of  these  cognitions  have  failed  to  give  their 
characteristics,  and  thus  to  bring  them  out  into  distinct 
consciousness.  Before  Leibnitz,  no  one  had  ever  men- 
tioned their  two  great  characteristics,  —  necessity/  and  tini- 
versaiUi/,  —  and  it  was  not  till  the  time  of  Kant  that 
these  were  at  all  signalized  and  properly  applied.  Mean- 
time, there  was  no  uniform  and  accepted  designation 
either  for  the  cognitions,  or  the  faculty  in  which  they  origi- 
nated. The  fiiculty  was  called  "  intuition,"  and  the  "  dry 
light  of  the  mind,"  and  "common  sense,"  and  "the 
9 


26  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

reason,"  and  by  Hamilton  it  is  called  "  the  regulative  fac- 
ulty," while  the  names  for  the  cognitions  themselves  were 
still  more  numerous. 

But  remarkable  as  all  this  is,  it  is  still  more  so  that  no 
one  has  even  claimed  to  explore  all  the  recesses  and  sound 
the  depths  of  this  faculty.  Some  ideas,  as  those  of  exist- 
ence, identity,  and  space,  are  recognized  by  all  of  this 
general  school  as  given  by  it,  but  no  one  has  claimed  to 
make  an  accurate  and  full  statement  of  these  native,  neces- 
sary, and  universal  cognitions.  They  have  lain,  and  still 
lie,  like  a  nebula  in  the  depths  of  the  heavens,  which  no 
instrument  has  as  yet  been  able  fully  to  resolve. 

Among  and  concerning  these  it  has  been  that  the  great 
battle  with  skepticism  —  that  is,  philosophical  skepticism  — 
has  been  fought.  Hume  denied  their  validity.  Their 
legitimacy  and  place  was  not  recognized  in  formal  logic, 
then  the  test  of  truth,  and  the  mass  of  philosophers  were 
in  the  unfortunate  position  of  holding  to  principles  clearly 
involving  consequences  which  they  could  not  accept. 
Skepticism  had  thus  an  apparent  triumph.  Meantime, 
Reid  began  groping  about  in  this  region,  and  found  the 
means,  as  he  and  others  thought,  of  bridging  the  chasm  of 
inconsistency  dug  by  the  skeptics ;  but  so  great  was  the 
want  of  precise  terms,  and  so  subtle  the  elements  he  dealt 
with,  that  even  the  acute  Brown  not  only  did  not  compre- 
hend him,  but  imputed  to  him  opinions  the  very  reverse 
of  those  he  held.  In  such  a  state  of  terms  and  ideas,  men 
are  like  Indians  fighting  in  a  thicket.  It  is  not  easy  to 
find  and  dislodge  your  adversary;  and  when  you  do,  he 
can  easily  gain  another  place  of  concealment,  and  deny 
that  he  has  been  dislodged  at  all.  If  a  clear  exposition  of 
these  truths  of  reason,  or  native  cognitions,  or  first  truths, 
or  maxims  of  common  sense,  or  fundamental  laws  of  be- 


REASONS  FOR  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  27 

Uef,  or  whatever  we  may  choose  to  call  them,  could  have 
been  made  before  the  time  of  Hume,  he  would  probably 
never  have  been  heard  of  as  a  philosophical  skeptic.  The 
mind  of  Hume  had  in  perfection  the  acuteness  of  the 
skeptic,  which  enabled  him  to  see  defects,  and  so  to 
destroy,  but  had  not  the  comprehensiveness  needed  for 
construction. 

But  to  take  a  plainer  case.  What  can  be  more  intimate 
to  a  man,  or  more  perfectly  known,  than  that  of  which  he 
is  conscious  ?  If  a  man  cannot  know  what  he  is  conscious 
of,  it  would  seem  that  he  cannot  know  anything ;  and  yet 
the  whole  question^  between  Reid  and  Hamilton  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  great  mass  of  philosophers  on  the  other,  re- 
spects simply  the  fact  whether  there  is  or  is  not  given  in  an 
act  of  consciousness,  both  a  subject  and  an  object  that  are 
not,  in  the  last  analysis,  identical.  What  consciousness  tes- 
tifies to  must  be  accepted.  This  all  allow.  Not  to  do  it 
would  be  suicidal  even  to  the  skeptic;  for  he  would  have 
no  ground  for  affirming  that  he  doubted.  The  only  ques- 
tion is,  what  it  is  that  consciousness  gives.  If  we  say  that 
it  does  thus  give  both  the  subject  and  the  object,  that  sira 
pie  affirmation  sweeps  away  in  a  moment  the  whole  basis 
of  the  ideal  and  skeptical  philosophy.  It  becomes  as  the 
spear  of  Ithuriel,  and  its  simple  touch  will  change  what 
seemed  whole  continents  of  solid  speculation  into  mere 
banks  of  German  fog.  If  we  say  that  the  subject  and 
object  are  not  both  given,  we  are  then  left  to  find  as  we 
may  a  solid  basis  for  our  belief  in  the  existence  of  an 
external  world.  But  however  we  may  decide  it,  the  fact 
that  the  great  philosophical  dispute  of  the  day  would  be 
settled  at  once  by  a  precise  statement  of  what  is  given  in 
the  consciousness  of  every  man,  sliows  clearly  that  our 
investigations  become  more  difficult  as  we  approach  the 


28  LECTtJRES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

centre  of  our  being.  It  shows,  too,  how  far  apart,  on 
subjects  like  these,  men  may  be  in  their  statements,  whose 
belief  is  really,  the  same ;  for  the  consciousness  is  really  the 
same  in  all,  and  is  accepted  by  all. 

What  has  now  been  said  relates  indeed  to  the  intellect ; 
but  the  moral  nature  is  not  less  central,  and  presents,  to 
say  the  least,  equal  difficulties  on  this  ground. 

In  connection  with  the  above,  it  may  be  well  to  notice 
a  peculiarity  of  all  advances  and  discoveries  made  in  this 
direction,  as  they  are  related  to  the  mass  of  men  who  are 
not  philosophers.  It  is,  that  the  more  profound  and  diffi- 
cult the  discoveries  are,  the  more  they  will  seem,  when 
clearly  announced,  to  be  a  matter  of  course,  and  no  dis- 
coveries at  all.  Though  few  men  are  able  to  state  what  is 
really  contained  and  implied  in  their  own  consciousness, 
yet,  when  it  is  stated  by  another,  there  can  be  in  it  nothing 
strange  to  them ;  they  recognize  it  and  say,  "  Yes,"  "  Cer- 
tainly," and  it  seems  to  them  they  could  have  made  the 
same  statement.  The  continent  is  discovered,  the  egg  is 
set  on  end,  and  nothing  could  have  been  easier. 

A  fifth  reason,  which  has  been  implied  already,  and 
which  has  operated  both  as  cause  and  effect,  has  been 
the  want  of  definite  terms.  Science  requires  that  terms 
should  be  used  uniformly  in  the  same  sense,  and  that  they 
should  convey  the  same  impression  to  all  who  use  them. 
This  can  be  done  perfectly  only  in  mathematics,  may  be 
approximated  in  dealing  with  objects  of  sense,  but  is  most 
difficult  in  all  that  pertains  to  mental  and  moral  science. 
In  these  the  terms  are  borrowed  from  material  objects,  and 
so  can  be  applied  only  figuratively;  and  then  in  applying 
them  there  is  a  difficulty  that  does  not  belong  to  physics. 
When  I  point  a  child  to  a  particular  star  and  say,  "That  is 
Jupiter,"  J  w>c\  sure  that  we  both  see  the  same  object ;  and 


REASONS  FOE  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  2S 

when  speaking  of  it  thereafter,  we  cannot  fail  of  under- 
standing each  other.  But  when  I  speak  to  him  of  "  the 
reason,"  as  distinguished  from  "  the  understanding,"  or  of 
"  first  truths  of  reason,"  as  distinguished  from  "  empirical 
knowledge,"  or  of  conscience,  I  speak  to  him  of  what  is  in 
my  own  mind,  and  he  must  respond  respecting  what  is  in 
his  mind.  But  differing  as  we  do  in  age,  constitution,  and 
education,  we  can  never  be  sure  that  our  impressions  are 
alike.  "  What,"  said  a  master  to  his  man  who  had  refused 
to  do  his  bidding  on  the  ground  of  conscience,  —  "  what  do 
you  mean  by  conscience  ?  "  "  It  is,"  said  he,  "  something 
in  here  that  says,  I  won't."  In  the  opinion  of  Paley,  if 
conscience  be  anything  original  and  native  to  the  mind,  it 
cannot  be  distinguished  from  prejudices  and  habits.  Some 
think  it  simply  the  power  of  moral  discrimination ;  others 
add  an  emotive  element  to  reward  and  punish,  and  others 
still  an  impulsive  power.  Some  regard  it  as  the  voice  of 
God,  and  nearly  or  quite  infallible ;  others  as  simply  a  form 
of  judgment,  like  any  other,  and  equally  liable  to  error. 
Here  the  same  word  is  used ;  and  so  it  is,  only  with  a  dif- 
ference of  meaning  somewhat  wider,  when  we  speak  of  a 
sign  of  a  tavern,  and  of  a  sign  of  the  zodiac ;  and  till  there 
is  agreement  in  the  meaning  of  the  term,  no  progress  can 
be  made  in  discussion. 

How,  then,  shall  we  be  freed  from  this  difficulty?  Who 
shall  have  the  right  to  say  what  the  term  conscience  shall 
include  ?  No  one.  But  as  thought  is  concentrated,  as  it 
will  be,  more  and  more  upon  man  himself,  the  facts  of  his 
moral  nature  will  come  into  more  distinct  consciousness, 
and  the  discriminations  thus  made  will  demand  the  nar- 
rowing down  of  old  terms,  or  the  invention  of  new  ones, 
and  these  will  gradually  become  definite  and  generally  ac- 
cepted. When  terms  are  thus  gained,  they  will  react  upon 
3* 


30  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

thought,  as  instruments  invented  react  upon  the  inventive 
power ;  for  language  is  not  only  a  product,  but  an  instru- 
ment of  thought. 

This  process  is  going  on,  slowly  but  satisfactorily,  in 
moral,  and  particularly  in  mental  science.  In  the  latter, 
tlie  old  classification  of  the  faculties  was  into  those  of  the 
understanding  and  the  will.  This  sufficed  till  further  ex- 
tmination  showed  that  all  the  facts  could  not  be  ranged 
under  these.  We  not  only  think  and  will,  we  also  feel ; 
and  accordingly,  after  long  discussion  and  some  aid  from 
abroad,  the  threefold  division  of  the  faculties  into  those 
of  Thought,  of  Feeling,  and  of  Action,  is  almost  universally 
accepted.  Under  each  of  these  a  distinct  science,  or,  if 
you  please,  department,  is  formed,  in  which  a  similar  pro- 
cess must  go  on.  In  that  of  thought,  or,  as  he  terms  it, 
of  cognition.  Sir  William  Hamilton  has  introduced  new 
terms  and  classifications,  some  of  which  will  doubtless  be 
adopted.  The  same  will  be  done  in  the  other  depart- 
ments, till  the  whole  shall  assume  all  the  definiteness  and 
completeness  of  which  the  science,  from  its  nature,  is 
capable. 

This  difficulty  from  a  want  of  terms,  and  of  uniformity 
S  their  usage,  has  been  felt  from  the  first,  and  will  be 
^predated  the  more  as  the  subject  is  more  studied.  It  is 
♦ne  concerning  which  it  is  easy  to  give  precepts,  but  diffi- 
cult to  follow  them.  Of  this  difficulty  no  one  has  been 
more  fully  aware  than  Locke.  He  wrote  largely  upon  it, 
and  gave  wise  precepts;  and  yet  used  the  word  idea  so 
loosely  that  on  the  great  subject  of  the  origin  of  know- 
ledge it  is  still  imcertain  what  he  really  believed.  On  the 
Continent  he  was  so  interpreted  as  to  be  made  the  father 
of  materialism.  Many  of  the  English  admitted  of  no  such 
interpretation,  and  both  parties  sustained  themselves  by 


REASONS  FOR  ITS  SLOWER  PROGRESS.  81 

adequate  quotations.  On  this  subject  I  make  no  prqm- 
ises. 

The  next,  and  the  last  consideration  I  shall  adduce  to 
account  for  the  slower  progress  of  moral  science,  is  the 
failure  of  men  in  practical  virtue. 

That  there  has  been  such  failure  no  one  will  deny ;  and 
it  has  operated  in  various  ways.  When  a  science,  as  for- 
merly that  of  war,  is  regarded  as  at  the  basis  of  the  great 
business  of  life,  it  will  be  studied.  Attention  will  be  con- 
centrated upon  it,  and  it  will  be  earned  to  the  greatest 
possible  perfection.  But  let  the  subject  be  one  for  which, 
while  every  one  acknowledges  its  importance,  few  have 
any  practical  regard ;  let  it  be  thought  of  as  something 
which  will  do  for  the  closet  and  the  schools,  but  not  for 
practical  life;  let  there  be  a  general  impression  that  its 
maxims  are  repeated  in  a  perfunctory  way,  as  a  cover  to 
the  real  principles  of  action,  and  any  earnest  or  general 
study  of  the  science  is  imjDOSsible.  Theories  there  may  be. 
They  are  needed  for  conversation  and  the  Reviews ;  but 
only  as  there  is  a  real,  heartfelt,  practical  interest  in  virtue, 
can  there  be  a  genuine  struggle  for  the  truth  as  vital.  The 
general  failure  of  men  in  practical  virtue  has  created  an 
atmosphere  unfavorable  to  an  earnest  search  after  the 
truth  in  morals.  The  set  of  the  current  in  society  has 
been  against  it. 

Again,  under  this  head,  in  proportion  as  men  are  vicious, 
not  only  will  they  lack  interest  in  the  science,  but  they 
become  disqualified  for  its  pursuit. 

This  is  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  all  the  faculties. 
The  faculties  are  strengthened  by  exercise ;  they  can  be 
Btrengthened  in  no  other  way;  and  they  arc  exercised  right- 
ly only  by  doing  just  the  work  which  God  intended  they 
sliould  do.     The  moral  jwwers,  as  a  whale^  can  he  so  exer- 


32  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

cised  as  to  improve  them  only  as  duty  is  accepted  andprac* 
tically  performed.  Therefore  we  say  that  the  man  whose 
moral  faculties  have  been  dwarfed  by  disuse,  or  perverted 
by  abuse,  would  not  be  well  qualified  to  investigate  the 
science  of  morals.  The  phenomena,  it  is  to  be  remem- 
bered, are  those  of  mind.  While  there  is,  therefore,  in  all 
a  common  basis  for  the  science,  yet  both  the  seeing  eye 
and,  the  thing  seen  may  be  modified  by  custom  and  habits. 
If  there  be  little  moral  culture,  the  moral  phenomena  will 
either  be  obscure,  or  will  consist  in  a  decided  wickedness 
which  is  blinding  and  hardening,  w^hile,  at  the  same  time, 
the  power  of  moral  discrimination  will  be  diminished.  It 
may  be  said  that  it  is  the  intellect  that  constructs  science. 
But  it  must  construct  it  out  of  the  materials  given,  which 
will  be  different  in  a  vicious  mind ;  and  it  must  also  have 
clearness  and  power  in  the  particular  field  in  which  it 
works.  But  no  fact  can  be  better  established  than  that 
wickedness,  in  every  form  and  degree,  not  only  blunts  the 
moral  feelings,  but  weakens  the  power  of  moral  discrimina* 
tion.  A  perfect  mental  science  would  require,  first,  the 
normal  action  of  the  faculties  to  give  the  phenomena,  and 
then  an  accurate  observation  of  those  phenomena.  A  per- 
fect moral  science  would  require  the  normal  action  of  the 
moral  powers,  either  in  ourselves  or  another,  and  an  accu- 
rate observation  of  the  results ;  but  by  the  prevalence  of 
vice  the  facts  are  both  distorted  and  obscured. 

What  has  now  been  said  of  morals  is  equally  applicable 
to  taste.  A  man  whose  sense  of  beauty  should  be  either 
nn cultivated  or  perverted  would  be  the  less  capable  of 
apprehending  and  presenting  perfectly  the  science  of  £es- 
thetics.  But  there  is  in  morals  a  sjjecial  difliculty.  A 
vicious  man  is  strongly  tempted  either  to  deceive  or  to 
bribe  his  conscience,  and  can  hardly  be  expected  to  judge 


PROGRESS  MUST  BE  SLOW.  8d 

fairly  of  any  system  that  would  either  justify  or  condemn 
himself.  In  all  moral  and  religious  truth  there  is  this  diffi- 
culty. It  is  not  that  we  have  lost  the  power  to  judge,  but 
that  we  will  not  use  it.  It  is  the  old  difficulty  of  the  influ- 
ence  of  the  desires  and  affections  and  of  our  supposed 
interest  on  our  judgment.  We  all  know  how  passion  and 
interest  pervert  the  judgment,  and  what  discordant  opin- 
ions there  are  wherever  men  are  under  their  influence. 

If,  therefore,  there  had  been  no  incapacity  from  vice, 
and  no  wrong  bias,  or  passion,  or  want  of  candor,  we  can- 
not but  suppose  that  moral  science  would  have  been  much 
more  advanced  than  it  now  is. 

In  thus  answering  the  natural  inquiry  respecting  the 
relative  progress  of  these  sciences,  I  have  desired  also  to 
do  something  in  the  way  of  caution  and  guidance  for  our- 
selves. What  has  been  is  now,  and  will  continue  to  be. 
The  same  obstacles  that  have  been  encountered  by  othei*s 
we  shall  encounter ;  and  some  of  them  are  such  that  if  we 
are  forewarned  we  may  be  forearmed  against  them. 

Against  the  first  difficulty  mentioned  we  can  do  nothing 
directly;  but  it  is  a  satisfaction,  and  may  be  of  some  aid, 
to  know  the  precise  mode  in  which  our  observations  are 
to  be  made.  But  we  may  gain  definite  views  of  the 
sphere  and  objects  of  the  science;  we  may  seek  to  sim- 
plify it;  we  may  make  independent  search  into  the  depths 
of  our  own  consciousness ;  we  may  be  careful  in  the  use 
of  words,  conforming  at  least  to  our  own  definitions ;  and, 
above  all,  we  may  either  enter  upon,  or  become  more  ear- 
nest in,  a  course  of  practical  virtue,  and  so  both  prevent 
the  imbecility  of  vice,  and  dispense  the  blinding  mists  that 
always  arise  from  a  corrupt  heart. 

The  difficulties  just  considered  are  such  as  to  preclude 
the  hope  of  any  great  and  sudden  advance  in  this  science 


84  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

—  of  any,  at  least,  which  shall  be  at  once  recognized  and 
incorporated  into  the  public  mind.  Even  if  completed  in 
thought  and  expression  by  one  man,  —  if  it  should  have 
its  Newton,  —  yet  its  full  acceptance  by  the  public  mind 
and  assimilation  with  it  would  necessarily  be  slow.  In 
astronomy,  the  true  system  was  opposed  to  the  popular 
conceptions  and  forms  of  speech,  and  more  than  one  gen- 
eration was  required  for  it  to  permeate  the  masses  and 
thoroughly  control  the  habits  of  thought.  But  in  that 
the  proofs  were  open  to  popular  apprehension,  and,  for 
the  most  part,  there  were  no  desires  and  passions  to  ob- 
struct conviction.  But  of  all  the  changes  in  society,  none 
are  so  slow  as  those  which  are  conditioned  upon  changes 
in  language  and  character.  Even  Christianity  itself,  with 
its  wonderful  evidence  and  its  divine  power,  is  far  from 
having  taken  full  possession  of  the  public  mind  in  any 
community,  and  simply  because  it  had  the^e  obstacles  to 
encounter.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  perfection  in  moral  sci- 
ence, to  say  nothing  of  other  obstacles,  can  be  reached 
only  through  changes  both  in  language  and  in  character. 
If  terms  absolutely  new  would  not  be  demanded,  yet  some, 
like  the  heathen  words  for  God,  would  require  to  be  ex- 
panded and  ennobled,  while  others  would  require  to  have 
their  elasticity  and  capacity  reduced ;  and  then,  the  deli- 
cacy of  moral  feeling  and  accuracy  of  perception  to  be 
attained  only  through  virtuous  habits,  would  be  indispens- 
able. 

It  follows  from  this  that,  in  our  cultivation  of  this  field, 
we  are  not  to  be  disappointed  if  we  see  no  immediate  or 
startling  results.  The  changes  to  be  anticipated  are  like 
those  of  geology  in  the  formation  of  strata,  —  sometimes 
more  and  sometimes  less  rapid,  but  always  relatively  slow. 

But  since  the  progress  of  the  science  is  so  slow,  and  its 


TWO  CLASSES  OP  SCIENCES.  85 

completion  has  been  so  long  delayed,  it  may  be  asked 
whether  it  is  of  any  use.  Are  there  not,  it  may  be  in- 
quired, in  our  nature  practical  principles,  which  do  and 
will  control  the  course  of  human  affairs  with  something 
like  the  certainty  of  instinct,  and  quite  independent  of 
scientific  speculation  ?  Within  the  memory  of  many  this 
question  has  been  put  respecting  various  branches  of  phys- 
ical science.  It  would  not  be  put  now.  But  respecting 
metaphysical  and  moral  science  there  are  those  who  put  it 
with  sincerity  and  earnestness. 

On  this  point,  and  as  they  are  related  to  practical  arts, 
there  are  two  classes  of  sciences.  In  the  one  the  science 
is  wholly  at  the  basis  of  the  art,  and  is  requisite  to  its 
results  in  any  degree.  The  art  of  photography  could  not 
have  been  without  chemistry,  nor  surgery  without  anat- 
omy, nor  the  art  of  protecting  buildings  from  lightning 
without  the  science  of  electricity.  In  such  cases,  and  they 
are  numerous,  the  science  is  first,  and  the  practical  results 
follow.  The  processes  start  from  the  sciences.  In  these 
cases  no  one  questions  the  utility  of  science.  In  the  other 
class  the  practical  results  are  first  and  the  sciences  follow. 
The  sciences  start  from  the  processes,  which  they  simply 
recapitulate.  Here  science  consists  in  the  statement  of 
the  properties,  the  relations  in  space,  and  the  successions 
in  time  of  those  things  which  our  will  cannot  reach,  or,  if 
it  can,  cannot  improve.  Science  may  predict  the  place  of 
a  star ;  but  the  color  of  its  light  or  the  rapidity  of  its 
motion  it  cannot  affect.  God  gives  light  and  the  eye,  and 
we  see ;  but  we  see  no  better  after  knowing  the  structure 
of  the  eye  and  the  science  of  optics  than  before.  Here 
the  result  is  first,  as  perfect  as  it  can  be  made,  and  the 
science  is  just  a  statement  of  the  process  by  which  the 
result  was  reached.    It  is  in  this  cliiss  that  the  science  of 


36  LECTUBES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

the  mind  belongs.  Like  the  eye,  its  faculties  are  given^ 
and  act  by  their  own  law  without  reference  to  science, 
which  can  merely  trace  back  and  state  such  results  as  are 
common  to  all  minds.  It  is  solely  with  reference  to  these 
sciences  that  the  question  arises. 

To  this  question.  What  is  the  use  ?  there  are  two  re- 
plies. The  first  is,  that,  even  in  the  sense  of  the  word  as 
used  by  the  objector,  these  sciences  are  of  use.  The  pro- 
cesses may  be  perfect ;  we  may  not  be  able  to  affect  the 
results,  and  yet  the  sciences  may  be  of  use  indirectly. 
We  cannot  change  the  number  or  movements  of  Jupiter's 
satellites ;  but  by  means  of  their  eclipses  we  can  calculate 
the  longitude.  Entomology  will  not  enable  us  to  change 
the  structure  or  habits  of  an  insect ;  but  it  may  suggest 
a  mode  of  saving  our  trees.  The  laws  of  the  winds  aro 
not  subject  to  our  control;  but  by  a  knowledge  of  them 
we  may  shorten  our  voyage. 

Again,  this  class  of  sciences  becomes  greatly  useful 
when  the  structures  and  processes  of  nature  become  de- 
ranged. When  the  eyes  become  flattened  by  age,  science 
can  remedy  the  defect,  and  when 

"A  drop  serene  hath  quenched  their  orb, 
Or  dim  suffusion  veiled," 

it  is  by  science  alone  that  it  can  be  removed.  And  so  it  is 
m  most  cases,  of  displacement  and  derangement  in  the 
physical  system.  The  science  of  anatomy,  which  is  almost 
wholly  at  the  basis  of  the  art  of  surgery,  would  be  of  no 
practical  use  if  nothing  ever  went  wrong  in  the  body. 

A  second  reply  to  the  objection  urged  is,  that  while  we 
do  not  repudiate  the  conception  of  utility  involved  in 
what  has  just  been  said,  we  yet  do  not  need  it  for  the 
vindication  of  these  sciences.    We  are  capable  of  an  inter- 


USB  OP  STUDYING  THE  SCIENCE.  87 

est  in  science  for  its  own  sake,  which  shows  that  we  have 
an  affinity  with  higher  natures,  and  that  the  whole  domain 
of  the  universe  will  finally  be  ours.  The  pleasure  felt  by 
the  great  discoverers  of  scientific  truths  is  among  the  pur- 
est and  most  unselfish  that  can  belong  to  man.  It  gives 
them  a  thought  of  God  which  they  utter  to  the  race,  and 
it  becomes  a  fountain  of  joy  to  millions.  So  it  has  been  in 
astronomy.  Every  time  the  thought  of  God,  as  uttered  by 
Newton,  has  been  apprehended  for  the  first  time  by  any 
mind,  there  has  been  a  commencement  anew  of  the  revo- 
lutions of  the  heavens,  and  the  morning  stars  have  sung 
together.  And  so  would  ft  be  if  the  mighty  forces  and 
bright  order  that  are  without  and  afar  could  be  seen  to  be, 
as  they  are,  but  a  type  and  reflection  of  the  forces  and 
order  within.  Then  would  the  great  thought  of  God,  not 
merely  of  a  physical  order  in  one  department,  but  in  all 
departments ;  and  not  of  a  physical  order  merely,  but  of 
one  which  should  correspond  in  his  one  universe  to  a 
spiritual  and  moral  order  still  more  glorious,  stand  fully 
revealed,  and  should  be  a  light  and  a  joy  forever. 

I  have  only  to  add,  that  our  opinions  of  the  laws  and 
processes  of  our  being  may  be  so  held  as  to  affect  those 
processes  scarcely  at  all,  and  hence  that  the  practical 
results  of  man's  opinions  on  these  points  are  often  less 
beneficent  and  less  mischievous  than  would  naturally  be 
supposed.  In  our  minds,  no  less  than  in  exteraal  nature, 
the  forces  are  what  they  are,  irrespective  of  any  opinion  of 
ours,  and  will  act,  and  no  theory  has  any  direct  tendency 
to  eradicate  or  diminish  them.  In  the  man  who  believes 
m  disinterested  benevolence,  the  desires  and  passions  and 
selfish  forces  may  still  have  the  ascendency,  while  he  who 
holds  to  the  selfish  theory  may  be  often  moved  by  the  nat- 
ural impulses  of  benevolence  and  sympathy.    So  it  is  that 


88  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SC3IENCE. 

the  selfish  theory  of  morals,  so  long  inculcated,  has  not 
wholly  corrupted  society ;  so  it  is  that  men  are  often  better 
and  worse  than  their  theories;  so  it  is  that  God  holds 
in  check  the  evils  that  would  naturally  flow  from  the  errors 
of  men. 


LECTURE   II. 

THBEE  QUESTIONS.— THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  BNDS.  — AN  END  ATTAINBD 
nc  THREE  WAYS.  — ENDS  6X7BORDINATE,  ULTIMATE,  AND  SUPBEMB.  — AK 
END  INVOLVES  A  GOOD.— THE  NATURE  OF  GOOD  AS  FROM  ACTIVITY.— 
THE  GREATEST  GOOD. 

The  difficulties  mentioned  in  the  last  lecture  as  obstruct- 
ing the  progress  of  moral  science  would  also  render  it  les3 
desirable  as  a  subject  for  a  course  of  popular  lectures. 
But  with  those  difficulties  it  has  two  decided  advantages. 

The  first  is,  that  it  appeals  directly  to  the  consciousness 
of  the  hearer.  No  learning  is  needed ;  no  science,  no  ap- 
paratus, no  information  from  distant  countries.  "It  is 
nigh  thee,  even  in  thy  heart."  Some  familiarity  with 
terms  may  be  required ;  but  there  is  that  in  every  man 
which  may,  and  ought  to  make  him  a  competent  judge  of 
all  questions  pertaining  to  this  science.  Let  a  lecturer  but 
state  the  facts  simply  and  truly,  thus  interpreting  every 
man^s  consciousness  to  himself,  and  he  may  hope  to  carry 
his  audience  with  him.  Thus  to  state  the  fiicts  will  be  my 
endeavor. 

The  second  advantage  is,  that  the  questions  involved  are 
among  the  deepest  and  most  vital  that  belong  to  our 
nature. 

We  proceed,  then,  to  our  subject,  and  begin  with  facts. 

That  men  regard  some  actions  with  approbation,  and 
others  with  disapprobation,  is  a  fact,  just  as  it  is  a  fact  that 
they  regard  some  portions  of  matter  as  hard,  and  others  as 
Bofl.    Of  those  actions  which  they  approve,  they  say  that 

39 


40  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

they  ought  to  be  done ;  of  those  which  they  disapprove^ 
they  say  that  they  ought  not  to  be  done. 

In  these  facts  we  have  our  subject.  Moral  philosophy 
respects  the  character  and  conduct  of  men  only  as  there 
are  acts  which  they  ought,  or  ought  not  to  do.  "Wherever 
the  word  ought^  indicating  duty,  can  go,  there  is  its  do- 
main ;  and  the  point  beyond  which  that  cannot  go  fixes 
its  limit.  Whoever  can  answer,  in  all  cases,  these  three 
questions,  1st.  What  ought  to  he  done  f  2d.  Wliy  ought 
it  to  he  done?  and,  3d.  ffow  ought  it  to  he  done?  has 
mastered  the  science  of  morals. 

-  In  answering  these  questions  we  may  seek  aid  in  various 
directions.  I  propose  to  inquire,  at  present,  what  aid  we 
may  derive  from  a  consideration  of  ends  as  they  stand 
related  to  all  rational  and  moral  action. 

In  acting  morally,  man  also  acts  rationally ;  but  it  is  the 
characteristic  of  rational  action  that  it  involves  the  concep- 
tion of  an  end.  Except  in  the  apprehension  of  an  end, 
there  is  nothing  that  a  rational  being  can  do,  or  that  a 
moral  being  ought  to  do. 

This  relation  of  an  end  to  all  rational  action  may  be 
seen  if  we  observe  what  occurs  in  the  production,  study, 
and  use  of  works  produced  by  design. 

In  these  the  designer  first  conceives  of  the  end,  and  then 
of  the  thing  designed  with  reference  to  that.  It  is,  there- 
fore, the  end  in  view  that  controls  the  structure. 

In  studying  a  work  produced  by  design,  we  may  first 
gain  a  conception  of  the  structure,  and  pass  from  that  to 
the  end ;  but  our  interest  in  the  study  of  the  structure  is 
from  its  apprehended  relation  to  an  end;  and  we  are 
never  satisfied  with  a  knowledge  of  structure  without  that 
of  the  end. 

The  perfection  of  a  work  of  design  must  consist  in  its 


THE  CONSroERATION  OP  ENDS.  41 

adaptation  to  attain  its  proposed  end ;  and  all  use  of  it 
except  for  this  end  must  be  either  inappropriate  or  wrong. 
Hence,  a  conception  of  the  end  must  control  not  only  the 
structure,  but  the  use. 

If  the  relation  between  the  structure  and  the  end  be  at 
once  perceived,  there  will  be  no  need  of  rules.  If  not, 
rules  may  be  needed.  These  must  gi'ow  out  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  structure  to  its  end,  and  will  always  express 
some  mode  in  which  the  structure  must  be  used  to  attain 
the  end. 

What  is  true  of  rules  is  true  also  of  laws.  These  have 
often  been  confounded,  but^are  essentially  different.  A 
law  is  imperative ;  a  rule  is  not.  A  law  has  sanctions ;  a 
rule  has  not.  A  law  tells  us  what  to  do ;  a  rule,  how  to  do 
it.  A  command  to  put  forth  continuous  action  directly,  and 
without  the  use  of  means,  as  to  love  God,  would  be  a  law, 
but  not  a  rule,  and  no  rule  could  be  given  by  which  we 
could  do  it.  But  though  there  are  laws  which  cannot  be- 
come rules,  yet  rules  may  become  laws  when  the  observ- 
ance of  them  is  commanded,  and  enforced  by  a  penalty. 
While,  therefore,  a  rule  prescribes  a  course  of  action  that 
would  lead  to  an  end,  a  law  may  prescribe  one  that  is  itself 
an  end.  But  even  then,  as  a  rule  derives  its  value  from  its 
relation  to  an  end,  so  must  a  law  derive  its  value  from 
what  it  is  regarded  as  an  end. 

Again,  regarding  man  as  a  moral  being,  if  no  end  valu- 
able in  itself  be  supposed,  it  will  be  found  impossible  to 
conceive  of  him  as  under  obligation  to  act  in  any  particu- 
lar way.  For  the  very  conception  of  obligation  that  of  an 
end  is  a  condition. 

We  sec,  therefore,  that  in  all  rational  action  the  central 
conception  is  that  of  an  end.  In  works  of  design  it  con- 
trols the  structure  in  the  mind  of  the  designer;  it  is  essen- 


42  LECTURES  ON  »MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tial  to  a  right  understanding  of  the  structure  by  him  who 
would  study  it ;  it  is  in  its  relation  to  this  that  the  structure 
has  its  perfection  and  appropriate  use ;  and  from  this  that 
the  value  of  all  rules  and  laws  for,  and  in  its  use  arises. 
Of  whatever  can  be  comprehended  and  used,  even  of  man 
himself,  all  this  may  be  aflirmed. 

Let  us,  then,  apply  these  principles  to  man. 

As  man  was  made  by  a  wise  and  good  being,  he  must 
have  been  made  for  some  end,  and  the  conception  of  this 
end  must  have  controlled  the  formation  and  adjustment  of 
every  part  of  his  complex  structure. 

From  the  study  of  this  structure  we  may  gain  some 
knowledge  of  its  end.  Aside  from  revelation,  this  is  our 
only  knowledge  on  this  point.  Nor  is  the  amount  of 
knowledge  to  be  thus  gained  small.  Of  some  parts  of  the 
body,  as  the  hands,  the  feet,  the  eyes,  the  teeth,  the  end  is 
revealed  at  once  in  the  structure.  It  is  this  knowledge 
of  structure  as  related  to  use  that  gives  comprehension. 
Only  in  the  light  of  it  can  we  have  complacency  in  the 
structure  when  right,  or  the  power  to  correct  it  when 
wrong.  In  the  same  way  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  in 
their  relation  to  each  other,  reveal  their  end,  and  thus  the 
law  of  their  use.  An  intelligent  being  whose  end  should 
not  be  revealed  in  itself  would  be  an  absurdity.  If  the 
end  were  not  revealed  to  itself,  it  would  be  lost.  It  is  the 
possibility  and  measure  of  such  knowledge  that  determines 
the  possibility  and  measure  of  any  philosophy  of  man. 

The  perfection  of  man,  viewed  merely  as  a  product  of 
divine  power,  must  consist  in  his  adaptation  and  capacity 
to  attain  the  end  for  which  he  was  made. 

That,  and  that  only,  is  the  right  use  of  the  faculties  of 
man,  —  of  all  his  susceptibilities  and  powers  of  agency,  — 
by  which  they  attain  the  end  for  which  they  were  made. 


AN  END  ATTAINED  IN  THREE  WAYS.  48 

If  man  could  see  the  end  for  which  he  was  made  as  God 
sees  it,  and  dispose  himself  perfectly  for  its  attainment,  he 
would  be  in  harmony  with  God  ;  his  faculties  would  work 
in  hannony  with  each  other,  and  he  would  do  all  that  he 
ought  to  do.  ' 

Laws  and  rules  for  the  conduct  of  man,  whether  con- 
fessedly human,  or  claiming  to  be  divine,  are  valid  only 
as  they  are  based  on  a  true  perception  of  the  relation 
between  the  human  constitution  and  its  proper  end.  If 
a  course  of  conduct,  prescribed  by  what  claims  to  be  law, 
could  be  shown  to  be  opposed  to  the  attainment  of  the 
end  for  which  man  was  made,  it  would  not  be  right  to 
pursue  it.  The  will  of  God  is  revealed  in  the  end,  and  he 
cannot  contradict  himself. 

In  the  following  discussions  the  word  end^  as  applied  to 
man,  will  be  of  frequent  use,  and,  to  avoid  ambiguity,  it 
may  be  well  to  say  that  the  idea  it  involves  is  complex. 
As  intelligent  and  responsible,  the  end  of  man  is  to  choose 
something;  as  an  agent,  it  is  to  do  something;  as  capable 
of  enjoyment,  it  is  to  enjoy  something;  and  as  a  creature 
made  by  God,  his  end  is  to  be  that  which  will  enable  him 
to  do  and  to  enjoy  all  that  God  intended  he  should.  He 
IS  to  be  something,  to  choose  and  do  something,  and  to 
enjoy  something ;  and  his  whole  end  will  be,  to  be  what 
God  intended  he  should  be,  to  choose  and  do  what  He 
intended  he  should  choose  and  do,  and  to  enjoy  what  He 
intended  he  should  enjoy.  He  who  should  fail  in  any  of 
these  would  fail  of  attaining  his  whole  end ;  and  if  the 
word  should  at  any  time  seem  to  refer  particularly  to  one 
of  these  elements,  it  will  not  be  to  the  intentional  exclu- 
sion of  the  others. 

An  end  may  be  attained  in  three  ways.    And,  — 

Ist.    It  may  be  attained  by  instinct.    Here  the  agent 


44  LECTUBES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

has  no  knowledge  or  rational  comprehension  of  the  end, 
but  is  guided  by  a  blind  impulse. 

2d.  An  end  may  be  attained  by  obeying  a  rule  impli- 
citly. Here  there  may,  or  there  may  not  be  a  conception 
of  the  specific  end,  but  the  connection  between  the  means 
and  the  end  is  never  seen.  In  this  way  children  are  gov- 
erned. Here  the  principle  is  not  instinct,  but  faith.  They 
follow  the  rule,  that  is,  they  do  as  they  would  if  they  un- 
derstood the  connection  between  the  means  and  the  end, 
and  so  receive  the  same  benefit.  To  a  finite  being  faith  is 
a  necessary  principle  of  action,  and  becomes  practical  wis- 
dom when  there  is  a  rational  ground  of  confidence  in  the 
WQi-d  of  another  because  it  is  his  word,  or  of  implicit  obe- 
dience to  his  commands. 

3d.  An  end  may  be  attained  understandingly  and  ration- 
ally. The  structure  may  be  known,  now  regarded  simply 
as  a  means ;  the  end  may  be  known ;  and  there  may  also  be 
a  clear  perception  of  the  mode  in  which  the  structure  must 
be  used  to  attain  the  end.  In  this  mode  of  action  man 
would  not  act  from  law,  but  from  a  knowledge  of  the 
reasons  of  the  law.  He  would  be  wholly  a  philosopher. 
Viewing  the  end  as  God  views  it;  voluntarily  choosing 
this  end ;  applying  all  his  powers  as  they  were  intended 
for  its  attainment,  he  would  do  all  that  he  ought  to  do, 
would  have  the  approbation  of  God,  the  approbation  of 
his  own  conscience,  and  the  sanction  of  reason. 

But  if,  in  thus  attaining  the  end  for  which  he  was  made, 
man  would,  as  has  just  been  said,  do  all  that  he  ought  to 
do,  then  have  we  answered,  in  a  general  way,  one  of  the 
questions  mentioned  above.  Would  he  thus  do  all  that  he 
ought  to  do  ?  If  we  say  yes,  then  Moral  Philosophy  will 
be  the  science  which  teaches  man  the  end  for  which  he  was 
madej  why  he  should  attain  that  end,  and  how  to  attain  it. 


Moral  science  and  Christianity.  46 

To  the  above  definition  it  may  be  objected,  that  it  in- 
cludes theology  and  religion.  It  does  so  only  so  far  as  to 
justify  a  consideration  of  our  duties  towards  God,  and 
that  is  found  in  all  treatises  on  morals.  Moral  philosophy 
differs  from  theology  in  taking  for  granted  the  being  and 
attributes  of  God ;  and  religion  differs  from  morality  be- 
cause it  includes  all  our  duties  towards  men  as  commanded 
by  God ;  and  also  because  it  implies  an  order  of  faculties, 
and  a  class  of  duties,  as  those  of  worship,  of  which  mere 
morality  could  know  nothing.  Still,  the  science  of  duty, 
of  obligation,  must  be  one.  No  satisfactory  account  of  the 
moral  nature  of  man  and  of  its  full  sphere  can  be  given 
on  any  other  supposition.  We  may,  if  we  choose,  divide 
our  duties  into  those  towards  God,  and  those  towards 
man  ;  but  moral  science  must  go  wherever  the  word  ought 
can  be  applied. 

But  if  not  faulty  on  this  ground,  the  definition  has  an 
advantage  in  regard  to  Christianity.  We  are  able,  in  the 
light  of  it,  to  state  precisely,  which  has  not  always  been 
done,  the  relation  between  Christianity,  as  a  remedial 
system,  and  moral  philosophy.  This  is  entirely  different 
from  that  of  natural  religion.  It  is  that  of  medicine  to 
physiology.  Physiology  can  know  nothing  of  medicine 
except  as  it  would  restore  the  system  to  health ;  and 
moral  philosophy,  if  we  accept  the  above  definition,  can 
recognize  as  obligatory  no  precept  peculiar  to  Christi- 
anity, except  as  it  can  be  shown  to  be  necessary,  in  our 
present  state,  to  the  attainment  of  the  end  for  which  man 
was  made.  Let  this  be  shown  of  any  such  precept,  and  its 
obligation  will  not  only  be  recognized,  but  it  will  be  an  evi- 
dence that  the  religion  is  from  God ;  and  a  demonstrated 
capacity  in  the  religion  to  bring  man  fully  to  his  end 
would  be  a  demonstration  of  its  truth.    From  the  consti 


46  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tution  of  man  moral  philosophy  would  find  his  end.  In 
the  end  it  would  find  revealed  the  will  of  God,  and  in  the 
relation  between  the  constitution  in  its  various  parts  and 
its  end  would  find  revealed  the  law  of  God,  and  those 
rules  in  accordance  with  which  his  faculties  must  act  for 
the  attainment  of  the  end.  Christianity,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  wholly  remedial.  It  supposes  man  to  have  broken 
law,  and  it  harmonizes  with  moral  philosophy  and  can  be 
accepted  by  it  only  as  it  can  attain  for  man  his  original 
end,  —  or,  it  may  be,  something  better,  though  of  that 
moral  philosophy  could  know  nothing. 

Shall  we,  then,  accept  the  above  definitions  ?  Let  us  do 
so,  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  make  further  explorations  in  this 
direction.  The  definition  speaks  of  an  end  ;  but  ends  are 
of  different  kinds,  and  these  we  shall  need  to  consider. 

An  end  may  be  subordinate,  ultimate,  or  supreme. 

A  subordinate  end  is  one  chosen  for  the  sake  of  some 
end  beyond  itself.  Thus  books  are  chosen  for  the  sake  of 
knowledge,  and  the  implements  of  husbandry  for  the  sake 
of  a  crop.  A  subordinate  end,  regarded  by  itself,  is  not 
necessarily  a  good.     It  may  be  the  reverse. 

An  ultimate  end  is  one  that  is  chosen  for  its  own  sake, 
and  without  reference  to  anything  beyond.  It  must  be 
some  form  of  good.  The  enjoyment  there  is  in  viewing  a 
beautiful  prospect  is  valuable  for  its  own  sake,  and  is  the 
ultimate  end  in  making  the  ascent  whence  the  prospect 
may  be  seen. 

An  ultimate  end,  it  is  to  be  noticed,  is  always  the  result 
of  action,  and  never  tha  action  itself.  It  never  lies  proxi- 
mate to  the  volition,  and  so  cannot  be  the  immediate 
object  in  any  act  of  volition,  and  is  never  commanded. 
The  formula  is  —  "  do  this  and  live."  It  is  the  thing  to  be 
done  that  is  commanded,  and  that  Is  to  be  willed  j  the 


VOLITION    ANl>  AN  ULTiMAl*  END.  47 

living  is  the  result,  and  the  ultimate  end.  So  it  is  in  every- 
thing. Eat  the  peach,  —  and  enjoy  it ;  take  the  remedy,  — 
and  get  well ;  ascend  the  mountain,  turn  your  eyes  upon 
the  prospect,  —  and  enjoy  it.  The  ascent  and  the  turning 
of  the  eyes  are  the  immediate  result  of  volition;  the  enjoy- 
ment is  not  willed,  but  comes  of  its  own  accord  as  a  result 
of  the  constitution  of  the  perceptive  powers  and  the  land- 
scape in  their  relation  to  each  other.  It  is  here  as  in  the 
machinery  which  man  constructs.  He  may  build  a  mill, 
supply  it  with  wheat,  set  it  in  motion,  and  to  all  these 
volition  is  in  immediate  relation.  But  the  ultimate  end 
of  the  mill  is  the  flour,  and  that  is  ground  by  the  mill. 
To  that  the  will,  as  an  executive  act,  is  not  proximate. 
Hence,  ultimate  ends,  those  ultimate  for  man,  have  no 
exchangeable  value.  They  cannot  be  bought  and  sold, 
and  in  this  sense  are  worth  nothing.  As  the  brain  has  no 
sensibility  itself,  but  is  the  condition  and  fountain  of  sensi- 
bility for  all  other  parts,  so  these,  having  no  exchangeable 
value,  are  the  condition  and  ground  of  all  such  value. 
Hence,  after  having  chosen  an  ultimate  end,  an  act,  not  of 
volition,  but  of  choice,  we  are  always  to  understand  what 
it  is  that  lies  proximate  to  that,  and  to  attain  that  must  be 
the  object  of  all  immediate  volitions  and  efforts.  And 
hence,  again,  in  accordance  with  our  present  scheme  of 
thought,  virtue  will  consist  in  the  choice  of  the  right  end, 
followed,  of  course,  if  the  choice  be  thoroughgoing,  by  the 
wilUng  of  that  state  or  mode  of  activity  which  is  believed 
to  be  proximate  to  that.  That  state  is  always  proximate 
to  the  will ;  no  means  are  required,  and  so  a  failure  to  be 
virtuous  admits  of  no  excuse. 

This  relation  of  volition  to  an  ultimate  end  has  not  gen- 
erally been  stated  with  sufficient  distinctness,  and  the 
result  has  been  a  constant  puzzle.    It  is  generally  said  that 


48  LfiCHjRES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCJl. 

all  men  seek  happiness,  and  yet  no  man  ever  made  it  the 
direct  object  of  volition.  No  man  can.  That  God  holds 
in  his  own  power.  It  is  his  immediate  gift  through  that 
constitution  and  relation  of  things  which  he  has  estab- 
lished. We  will  that  which  he  has  made  the  antecedent 
and  condition  of  happiness,  and  he  gives  the  happiness. 
We  say  "  open  sesame,"  and  the  gate  opens  of  its  own 
accord.  This  is  what  men  mean  when  they  say  they  will 
do  their  duty  and  leave  the  event  with  God. 

But  besides  an  ultimate,  there  is  also  a  supreme  or  chief 
end.  A  supreme  end  is  also  ultimate ;  but  is  that  to  which, 
in  any  possible  conflict  of  ultimate  ends,  all  others  must  be 
subordinated.  Ultimate  ends  often,  and  necessarily,  con- 
flict with  each  other.  The  pleasure  from  each  sense  is 
ultimate ;  but  it  may  be  necessary  to  choose  between  that 
of  music  through  the  ear  and  that  of  beauty  through  the 
eye.  In  such  cases  we  may  indulge  our  preference ;  but  no 
end  may  be  chosen  as  ultimate  when  it  would  conflict  with 
that  which  is  supreme. 

Any  ultimate  end  may  be  adopted  as  supreme ;  but  the 
wisdom  of  man  consists  in  choosing  that  intended  by  God, 
which  can  be  but  one,  and  in  giving  to  each  of  those 
thus  made  secondary  its  proper  place. 

The  choice  of  this  sujDreme  end  is  the  highest  act  of  a 
rational  being,  and  involves  the  activity  of  all  his  rational 
and  moral  powers.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  a  rational 
action  that  it  involves  the  conception  of  an  end,  and  of  a 
moral  action  that  it  involves  the  preference  of  an  end. 
And  as  we  regard  a  moral  being  as  virtuous  or  vicious 
according  to  the  end  chosen,  so  do  we  regard  a  rational 
being  as  wise  or  foolish  on  the  same  ground.  Wisdom  and 
folly  chiefly  respect  the  ends  which  men  pursue,  rather  than 
the  means  by  which  they  pursue  them.     Here,  then,  we 


A  GOOD.  49 

find  a  point  at  which  the  rational  and  moral  natures  coa- 
lesce. 

But  to  be  more  particular.  What  the  supreme  end  of 
man,  as  fixed  by  God,  must  be,  will  be  determined  by  what 
he  is  in  himself,  and  as  related  to  other  beings.  The  con- 
ception and  choice  of  such  an  end  will  therefore  imj^ly  a 
knowledge,  implicit  or  formal,  of  himself,  and  of  those 
beings  and  relations  through  which  alone  the  end  can  be 
realized.  This  is  the  highest  of  all  knowledge.  There  is 
in  it  the  rpodt  ueavTdy*  of  the  ancients,  and  something 
more. 

In  the  conception  of  an  end  there  is  also  involved  that 
of  some  good.  This  cannot  come  from  the  intellect  alone. 
There  must  be  the  activity  of  the  emotive  nature,  —  of  that 
through  which  we  enjoy,  as  well  as  of  that  through  which 
we  apprehend.  But  the  recognition  of  a  good  through  the 
intellectual  and  emotive  nature  acting  conjointly,  does  not 
make  it  an  end,  much  less  a  supreme  end.  To  become 
such  it  must  be  chosen.  This  involves  the  moral  nature, 
since  the  character  of  every  man  is  determined  by  the  end 
he  chooses.  But,  further,  that  a  good  should  become  a 
supreme  end  implies  that  the  will  shall  at  once  put  forth 
determinate  acts  for  its  attainment.  Thus  the  conception 
of  a  supreme  end  involves  that  of  the  action  of  the  intel- 
lectual, the  emotional,  the  moral,  and  the  executive  powei'S, 
that  is,  of  the  whole  personality, —  of  the  man  in  his  unity. 

An  end,  as  has  been  said,  involves  some  form  of  good. 
We  next  inquire,  then,  what  is  a  good  ? 

A  good  must  be  either  some  form  of  enjoyment,  satisfac- 
tion, blessedness;  or  that  which  is  the  occasion,  caase,  or 
ground  of  such  enjoyment. 

There  are  many  objects  without  us  so  related  to  our 
organs  and  faculties  that  enjoyment  is  the  result  of  their 

i  *  Know  thyself. 


50  LECTUBES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

reciprocal  action.  Thus  light  acts  upon  the  eye,  and  is 
the  condition  of  seeing.  Here  we  have  the  eye,  the  light, 
and  the  product  of  their  joint  action,  that  is,  seeing.  A 
peach  eaten  acts  upon  the  palate,  and  is  the  condition 
of  a  pleasant  taste.  Here  we  have  the  palate,  the  peach, 
and  the  result.  Are,  then,  the  light  and  the  peach  a  good  ? 
As  conditional  for  these  results,  they  are  good^  but  not  a 
good.  When  we  apply  the  term  good,  we  mean  either  to 
indicate  that  which  is  good  in  itself,  or  we  have  reference 
to  an  end,  so  that  the  question  may  be  asked.  Good  for 
what  ?  and  if  that  question  can  be  answered  by  indicating 
any  use  of  the  thing  for  an  end  beyond  itself,  then  it  can- 
not be,  so  far  forth,  a  good,  nor  can  it  be  any  part  of  a 
supreme  good.  But  all  outward  objects,  and  all  possess- 
ions, sometimes  called  goods^  have  a  use  beyond  them- 
selves. If  they  were  never  to  contribute  to  comfort, 
enjoyment,  or  utility  in  any  way,  they  would  be  good  — 
for  nothing.  It  would  seem  self-evident  that  light  never 
seen,  the  sapid  quality  of  the  peach  never  tasted,  would 
not  be  a  good. 

We  seem,  then,  driven,  in  our  search  for  a  good,  to  liv- 
ing, sensitive,  conscious  beings,  whose  faculties  are  in 
action.  If  there  were  no  consciousness  in  the  universe, 
there  would  be  no  good.  But  if  found  here,  good  must 
be  either  in  some  state  of  the  being  that  is  back  of  the 
activity ;  or  in  the  activity  itself;  or  in  the  results  of  the 
activity. 

Let  us  illustrate  this.  Health  is  commonly  regarded  as 
a  good.  Doubtless,  there  is  a  state  of  the  materials  com- 
posing the  body  that  is  conditional  for  health,  and  is  back 
of  their  activity.  But  of  that  we  know,  and  can  know, 
nothing.  As  known  by  us,  health  is  that  state  of  the 
body  in  which  each  part  accomplishes  perfectly  its  end. 


GOOD  ONLY  IN  CONSCIOUSNUSS.  51 

WTien  the  teeth  masticate,  and  the  stomach  digests,  and 
the  liver  secretes,  and  the  blood  circulates  perfectly,  and 
every  other  organ  and  portion  of  the  body  performs  per- 
fectly its  part,  there  is  health.  This  state,  however,  is 
itself  a  form  of  activity,  since  a  cessation  of  activity  would 
be  death.  As  a  result  of  this  perfect  performance  of  its 
office  by  each  part  there  is  power,  and  a  state  of  conscious 
well-being,  in  which  a  pei-son  is  said  to  enjoy  himself. 
Here  it  must  be  conceded  that  the  whole  worth  both  of 
the  state  and  of  the  activity,  if  we  choose  to  distinguish 
them,  is  from  their  results.  If  there  were  from  them  no 
power  and  no  enjoyment,  they  would  be  good  for  noth- 
ing. Here,  what  we  have  to  do,  and  all  we  have  to  do,  is 
to  secure  that  form  of  activity  which  we  call  health.  The 
results  follow  by  the  constitution  of  God.  All  that  was 
said  respecting  an  ultimate  end  as  not  lying  approximate 
to  volition  applies  perfectly  here. 

And  so  it  is  in  mind.  There  may  be  a  state  of  mind 
back  of  activity,  and  so  back  of  consciousness,  that  is  good 
as  related  to  results ;  but  without  those  results  appearing 
in  consciousness  it  cannot  be  a  good.  If  conceivable  at 
all  in  such  a  state,  which  I  think  it  is  not,  mind  could 
never  be  known  as  mind,  and,  never  emerging  from  it, 
would  not  rise  above  the  dignity  of  matter, 

As  there  is,  then,  no  good  without  consciousness,  which 
involves  activity,  it  wonld  seem  that  the  good  must  be 
found  eitlier  in  the  activity  itself,  or  in  its  resultJs. 

But  activity  in  itself  cannot  be  a  good.  If  it  had  no 
results  it  would  be  good  for  nothing,  and  those  results  Inay 
be  evil  and  wretchedness,  as  well  as  blessing.  / 

We  turn,  then,  in  this  search,  to  the  results  in  conscious- 
ness, of  activity.  We  are  so  constituted  that  any  form  of 
normal  activity,  physical  or  mental,  produces  satisfaction, 


52  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

enjoyment,  blessedness,  according  to  the  faculties  that  act. 
Of  these  the  conception  is  simple  and  undefinable  except 
by  synonymous  terms.  They  are  that  in  which  we  rest,  in 
which  we  are  so  satisfied  that,  within  a  given  sphere,  we 
look  for  nothing  beyond.  From  our  activity  as  excited  in 
taste,  by  odors,  by  music,  in  admiration  of  beauty,  in  love, 
there  may  be  a  satisfaction  which  shall  be  the  measure  of 
our  capacity  in  that  direction.  This  all  concede  to  be  a 
good.  We  say,  then,  that  in  the  satisfaction  attached  by 
God  to  the  normal  activity  of  our  powers,  we  find  a  goody 
an  end  that  is  wholly  for  its  own  sake.  We  say,  too,  that 
it  is  only  in,  and  from  such  activity  that  we^  can  have  the 
notion  of  any  satisfaction,  enjoyment,  blessedness,  either 
for  ourselves  or  others ;  and  that  that  form  and  proportion 
of  activity  which  .would  result  in  our  perfect  blessedness 
would  be  right. 

Such  a  form  of  activity  will  be  to  the  mind  what  health 
is  to  the  body,  and  in  the  maintenance  of  that  will  be 
found  the  highest  duty  and  tTie  highest  good  of  man,  — 
his  wisdom  and  his  virtue.  From  it  must  result  to  others 
all  the  good  he  is  capable  of  doing ;  and  to  himself  all  he  is 
capable  of  enjoying.  Here,  as  in  health,  what  man  has  to 
do,  is  to  maintain  the  activity,  and  God  gives  the  result. 

It  will  appear,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  there  may 
be  as  many  forms  of  good  as  there  are  faculties  or  forms  of 
activity ;  and  these  forms  of  good  may  differ  not  only  in 
degree,  but  in  kind.  Has  man  a  sensitive  nature  ?  There 
is,  from  the  activity  of  that,  and  from  each  modification  of 
that  activity,  as  in  the  different  senses,  a  sensitive  good. 
It  is  multiform,  but  one.  Has  he  an  intellectual  nature  ? 
There  is  from  the  activity  of  that  an  intellectual  good. 
We  may,  indeed,  conceive  of  the  intellect  simply  as  a 
capacitj-  for  knowing,  and  as  acting  without  the  slightest 


THE  fflGHEST  GOOD.  63 

enjoyment,  —  as  light  without  heat.  But  this  is  not  its 
actual  constitution.  Call  it  what  you  please,  derive  it 
whence  you  will,  there  is  enjoyment  in  the  very  process 
and  activity  of  the  mind  in  the  driest  mathematical  dem- 
onstration, lias  man,  again,  an  aesthetic,  a  rational,  a 
moral,  a  religious  nature  ?  There  is,  from  the  activity  of 
each  of  these,  a  corresponding  good.  It  is  clear,  then,  that 
the  whole  good  of  man  would  arise  from  a  combination  in 
the  highest  possible  degree  of  all  these  forms  of  good ; 
also,  that  the  highest  good  would  he  from  the  activity  of 
the  highest  powers  in  a  right  relation  to  their  highest 
object.  Nor  is  this  highest  good  any  mere  happening,  as 
is  sometimes  said  of  happiness ;  nor  is  it  the  mere  satis- 
fying of  any  cmving;  it  is  that  result  in  God's  creatures 
that  was  intended  by  him,  and  is  an  image  of  his  own 
rational  and  holy  blessedness  in  the  activity  of  those 
powers  in  which  we  are  made  in  his  image. 

Of  the  conditions  of  good  the  above  statement  is  the 
most  general  that  can  be  made,  and  admits  of  no  excep- 
tion. It  implies  nothing  in  relation  to  the  direction  of 
the  activity  as  designed  to  produce  our  own  good,  or  that 
of  others.  If  there  are  in  man  no  faculties  except  for  pro- 
moting the  well-being  of  the  agent  himself,  then  the  well- 
being  of  the  agent  will  be  found  in  the  highest  activity  of 
those  faculties.  But  if  there  are  also  faculties  capable  of 
working  disinterestedly,  and  that  were  designed  to  pro- 
mote the  good  of  others,  then,  whatever  good  can  come  to 
the  individual  through  those  faculties,  will  come  from  their 
highest  activity  for  the  very  end  for  which  they  were 
made.  That  man,  as  social,  has  such  faculties,  there  can 
be  no  doubt ;  and  it  may  be  that  it  is  only  in  the  activity 
of  these  for  the  good  of  the  whole  that  the  end  and  high- 
est good  of  the  individual  can  be  found. 
5* 


54  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

In  the  view  just  given,  we  have  the  basis  of  a  concep- 
tion of  the  spiritual  universe  analogous  to  that  given  in 
astronomy  of  the  physical  universe,  but  far  higher.  In 
astronomy,  no  less  than  in  mind,  activity,  movement,  is  at 
the  basis  of  all  order,  and  beauty,  and  beneficence.  But 
thare  the  motion  is  impressed  from  without ;  here  it  is 
ii'om  within ;  there  it  is  unintelligent;  here  it  comprehends 
itself;  there  it  is  necessitated ;  here  it  is  free ;  there  there 
is  no  consciousness  and  no  emotion ;  here  the  movement 
is  reflected  in  the  consciousness,  and  every  faculty  sings. 
Think,  then,  of  creatures,  intelligent,  moral,  free,  with  sus- 
ceptibilities high  and  keen,  in  numbers  far  outnumbering 
the  starry  hosts.  See  in  each  a  central  personality  —  a 
mysterious  selfhood,  with  its  attendant  faculties  revolving, 
like  satellites,  harmoniously  about  it.  See  these  planetary 
intelligences  in  their  myriad  heavens,  each  moving  in  his 
own  bright  orbit,  at  once  of  duty  and  of  freedom,  mutually 
giving  and  receiving,  and  singing  together  that  song  which 
was  typified  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together  of  old, 
—  and  you  have  a  spectacle  which  He  who  sits  upon  the 
central  throne  may  well  look  upon  with  complacency,  and 
pronounce  "  very  good." 

That  the  account  now  given  is  correct,  appears  from  this. 
If  we  suppose  enjoyment,  satisfaction,  blessedness,  to  be 
wholly  withdrawn  from  the  universe,  we  should  feel,  what- 
ever state  or  form  of  activity  there  might  be,  that  its 
value  was  gone.  It  would  be  a  vast  machine  producing 
nothing.  But  if  we  suppose  the  highest  possible  blessed- 
ness of  God  and  of  his  universe  secured,  we  are  satisfied. 
It  must  surely  be  diflicult  to  satisfy  those  who  cannot  find 
an  adequate  end  and  good  in  their  own  highest  blessed- 
ness, and  in  the  highest  blessedness  of  God  and  bis  uni- 
verse. 


THE  GROUND  OP  OBLIGATION.  65 

If  the  statements  now  made  be  con'ect,  we  are  prepared 
to  answer  the  second  question  mentioned  above.  The 
first  was,  What  ought  to  be  done  ?  and  the  general  answer 
was,  To  ascertain  the  end  for  which  we  were  made,  and  to 
seek  to  accomplisli  that.  The  second  question  was,  Why 
ought  it  to  be  done  ?  and  the  answer  is.  Because  of  the 
intrinsic  excellency  and  worth  of  that  end.  Man,  and  all 
moral  beings,  are  capable,  as  such,  of  a  high  and  holy  bless- 
edness which  can  be  compared  with  nothing  else,  which  is 
the  fruit  and  crown  of  all  virtuous  and  holy  activity,  which 
has  no  exchangeable  value,  but  has,  in  itself,  an  infinite 
worth.         /      /      ^ 

If  it  be  still  asked  why  a  man  ought  to  seek  an  end 
which  has  this  intrinsic  worth,  the  reply  is  that  this  idea 
of  obligation  or  oughtness  is  a  simple  idea,  and  therefore 
that  we  can  only  state  the  occasion  on  which  it  arises.  Of 
its  presence  in  connection  with  our  choice  of  this  end  we 
can  give  no  account,  except  that  such  is  our  constitution. 
This,  however,  does  not  compel  us  to  say  that  we  ought 
to  seek  a  thing  siinply  because  we  ought.  The  sense 
of  obligation  or  oughtness  may  or  may  not  precede  the 
choice,  but  could  have  no  place  if  there  were  not  a  ground 
of  action  besides  itself.  It  does  not  come  u])  out  of 
vacancy.  A  man  ought  to  choose  that  which  is  congruous 
to  his  nature.  It  would  seem  that  an  act  of  choice  must 
be  from  something  in  the  thing  chosen  thus  congruous. 
He  ought  to  choose  his  own  well-being  rather  than  the 
contrary;  but  he  ought  to  choose  it  not  simply  because  he 
ought,  but  because  it  is  well-being.  If  there  were  noth- 
ing valuable  in  itself,  there  w  ould  be  nothing  that  ought  to 
be  either  chosen  or  done. 

For  those  who  adopt  the  general  line  of  thought  we  are 
now   pursuing,  this  (juestion   concerning  good  is  funda- 


56  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

mental,  because  there  is  involved  in  it  the  rule  for  right 
action.  According  to  this,  any  course  of  action  which  will 
secure  the  whole  good  for  which  man  was  made  must  be 
right. 

But  among  those  who  believe  that  the  rule  has  its  basis 
in  the  highest  good,  there  is  a  diiference  of  opinion  as  to 
what  that  good  is.  On  this  subject  I  cannot  enter  at  large, 
but  will  refer  briefly  to  two  different  views.  These  make 
the  good  consist  in  that  w^hich  is  conditional  for  the  results, 
and  not  in  the  results  themselves. 

The  first  is  that  of  Jouffroy.  His  view  is  that  good 
consists  in  universal  order.  "When,"  says  he,  "reason 
first  perceives  that,  as  there  is  a  good  for  us,  so  is  there  for 
all  creatures  whatsoever,  and  that  thus  the  particular  good 
of  each  creature  is  but  an  element  of  universal  order,  of 
absglute  good,  then  does  the  idea  of  good,  so  disengaged 
and  elevated  to  the  sphere  of  absolute  being,  appear  to 
our  reason  as  obligatory."  *  Here  two  questions  may  be 
asked.  The  first  is,  whether  the  reason  does  necessarily 
form  this  idea  of  universal  order.  Since  the  reason  has' 
been  so  much  spoken  of,  nothing  has  been  more  common 
than  to  mistake  the  results  of  abstraction  and  generaliza- 
tipn  for  its  immediate  and  necessary  ideas.  That  this  is 
not  one  of  those  ideas,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fict  that 
men  are  not  agreed  in  what  the  order  consists.  Universal 
order  may  be  either  that  form  and  extent  of  activity 
which  would  secure  universal  blessedness ;  or  that  perfect 
distribution  of  good  and  evil  which  would  constitute  moral 
order,  but  would  involve  punishment  and  suffering. 

But  if  this  idea  of  universal  order  be  an  idea  of  reason, 
it  would  not  follow  that  the  highest  good  was  in  that.  It 
would  be  only  conditional  for  blessedness.    This  it  doubt- 

•  Jntroduction  to  Ethics, 


THE  HIGHEST  GOOD.  57 

less  IS ;  but  if  no  blessedness  were  at  any  time  or  in  any 
degree  to  result  from  it,  it  would  be  in  vain.  No  position 
or  movement  of  matter,  no  activity  of  mind,  however  con- 
trolled and  subordinated,  that  should  have  no  results  be- 
yond itself,  would  be  a  good. 

These  remarks  are  made  on  the  supposition  that  the 
blessedness  is  not  considered  a  part  of  the  order.  If  it  be, 
then  there  is  simply  a  confusion  of  terms.  Order  would 
be  made  to  include  not  only,  according  to  its  usual  accep- 
tation, the  constitution  and  movements  of  the  universe, 
but  its  results. 

The  other  view  is  that  of  a  very  able  and  distinguished 
cotemporary.  This"  has  its  basis  in  the  perfection  of  the 
individual  as  a  moral  being,  as  the  other  has  in  that  of  the 
universe  as  a  constituted  whole.  "The  highest  good," 
says  Dr.  Hickok,  "the  summum  bonum,  is  worthiness  of 
spiritual  approbation."  * 

From  so  able  a  thinker  I  differ  with  regret.  But  what  is 
that  in  which  a  man's  worthiness  of  spiritual  approbation 
consists?  It  is  iif  his  choice  of  an  ultimate  end.  The 
character  is  according  to  that.  Does,  then,  the  highest 
good  of  man  consist  in  his  choosing  as  an  ultimate  end 
his  own  choice  of  an  ultimate  end  ?  This  cannot  bo,  and 
yet  would  seem  to  follow  from  the  definition. 

Again,  if  this  be  the  highest  good,  it  consists  of  some- 
thing which  can  enter  into  the  consciousness  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  time,  and  then  only  by  special  effort.  Man 
can  make  himself  and  his  state  the  object  of  his  own 
thoughts;  but  introspection  was  not  intended  to  be  the 
business  of  his  life,  nor  the  form  of  his  activity  in  which 
he  should  be  cither  most  useful  or  most  happy.  He  was 
made  to  apprehend  God  and  his  works,  and  his  fellow-crea- 

*  Uoral  Science,  p.  43. 


58  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tures,  and  to  love  and  admire  these,  and  not  to  look  wrthiu, 
except  to  correct  what  may  be  wrong,  and  to  admire  there, 
as  elsewhere,  indications  of  the  divine  wisdom  and  good- 
ness. How,  then,  can  that  be  the  highest 'good  of  man 
which,  if  he  really  had  it,  he  would  think  of  only  as  the 
man  who  has  healthy  lungs  thinks  of  his  breathing?  No 
doubt  worthiness  is  conditional,  and  in  a  moral  being  ne- 
cessarily so,  for  blessedness.  But  the  word,  though  it  may 
be  used  absolutely,  naturally  carries  with  it  an  indication 
of  something  beyond  itself.  A  worthiness  of  what  ?  Of 
approbation?  And  why  not  of  the  blessedness  there  is 
in  and  through  that  worthiness  and  that  approbation  ? 

In  this  and  similar  cases  the  ultimate  appeal  must  be  to 
consciousness.  To  that  I  appeal,  only  wishing  the  state- 
ments to  be  so  made  that  the  consciousness  may  apprehend 
distinctly  the  elements  with  which  it  is  dealing. 

In  speaking  hitherto  of  activities  and  their  results,  lan- 
guage has  been  used  in  its  ordinary  sense,  as  applied  to 
outward  things.  It  will  be  observed,  however,  that  in  the 
region  of  mind  and  of  consciousness  t^e  results  are  them- 
selves activities.  There  is,  therefore,  a  sense  in  which  it 
may  be  said  that  the  activity  is  the  blessedness.  The  dif- 
ference is,  that  what  we  call  activities  here  are  those  which 
are  inaugurated  and  controlled  by  the  will,  while  what  we 
call  results  are  those  emotions  and  feelings  which  follow 
from  the  other,  by  the  appointment  of  God.  We  do  not, 
therefore,  in  this  connection,  regard  ends  as  anything  out- 
ward, but  identify  ends  and  activities,      f'.'    t 


LECTURE    III. 

KIHDS  or  GOOD.  — SU8CEPTIBILTTIES  AND  POWERS.  — GOOD  AS  HIOItKB 
AiiD  LOITER.  —  FOKCE3  AND  FACULTIES  — THEIR  SUBORDINATION.  —  THK 
LAW  OF  LIMITATION.— METHODS  OF  ADDITION  AND  OF  DEVELOPMENT.— 
NATURAL  AND  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  SELF-DENIAL. 

In  the  last  lecture  two  questions  were  answered.  The 
first  was,  What  ought  man  to  do  ?  and  the  second,  Why 
ought  he  to  do  it?  Man  ought  to  attain  the  end  for 
which  he  was  made ;  and  he  ought  to  do  it  because  of  the 
intrinsic  worth  of  that  end.  In  answering  these  questions 
we  considered  the  nature  of  an  end  as  related  to  rational 
activity,  and  also  the  nature  of  good  as  necessarily  included 
in  an  ultimate  end. 

We  now  proceed  to  answer  the  third  question  proposed, 
which  is,  How  ought  man  to  attain  the  end  for  which  he 
was  made  ?  There  is  a  sense  in  which  this  question  may 
be  resolved  into  the  first ;  for,  if  we  know,  in  the  fullest 
sense,  what  to  do,  we  also  know  how  to  do  it.  But  con- 
venience and  the  common  use  of  language  justify  the 
division  now  made. 

In  answering  the  above  question  we  shall  naturally  ex- 
amine the  different  forms  of  activity  of  which  man  is  capa- 
ble, and  their  resulting  forms  of  good,  that  we  may  thus 
find  for  each  faculty  the  law  and  measure  of  its  activity. 
But  this  may  be  done  with  more  advantage  if  we  fii-st  dis- 
criminate between  different  kinds  of  good  ;  and  if  we  also 
find  a  criterion  by  which  we  may  distinguish  that  which 
Is  higher  from  that  which  is  lower. 

69 


60  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

As  has  been  said  already,  there  are  as  many  kinds  of 
good  as  there  are  forms  of  normal  activity;  but  these 
forms  of  activity  may  be  divided  into  two  great  classes 
broadly  distinguished. 

Man  has  powers,  and  he  has  susceptibilities.  By  his 
powers  he  acts  upon  external  nature  j  by  his  suscepti- 
bilities external  nature  acts  upon  him. 

Once  awakened,  the  powers  act,  not  simply  because  they 
are  acted  upon,  but  of  their  own  proper  activity.  The  sus- 
ceptibilities have  no  activity  of  their  own  except  as  they 
are  acted  upon.  In  the  activity  of  the  susceptibilities  the 
movement  is  from  without  inward ;  in  that  of  the  powers 
it  is  fi-om  within  outward.  In  the  one  we  receive ;  in  the 
other  we  give. 

When  the  susceptibilities  are  acted  upon  by  their  appro- 
priate stimuli,  the  result  is  pleasure.  So  far  as  this  term  is 
employed  distinctively,  this  is  the  form  of  enjoyment  indi- 
cated by  it,  and  is  that  which  is  sought  by  those  who  are 
called  "  lovers  of  pleasure."  It  has  an  inlet  through  each 
of  the  senses.  It  is  the  product  of  warmth,  and  food,  and 
of  the  various  kinds  of  nervous  stimulation.  That  the 
production  of  this  is  an  object  in  nature,  is  obvious  from 
the  number  and  variety  of  those  arrangements  by  which 
sensitive  beings  receive  pleasure  from  the  objects  around 
them.  In  this  respect  the  works  of  God  call  for  our  grate- 
ful study.  Particularly  is  the  human  organism  admirable 
for  this  in  its  complex  and  wonderful  adjustment  to  exter- 
nal nature. 

But  in  this  enjoyment  there  is  no  necessary  activity  of 
any  rational  or  moral  power.  The  right  relation  being  es- 
tablished, man  is  no  further  active  than  as  he  has  the  vital- 
ity and  susceptibility  which  must  bo  the  condition  of  any 
pleasure. 


SUSCEPTIBILITIES  AND  POWERS.  61 

Between  this  form  of  enjoyment  and  that  from  the  activ- 
ity of  the  powei-s  the  differences  are  radical.    And,  — 

1st.  The  law  of  habit,  mentioned  by  Butler,  by  which 
passive  impressions  become  weaker  as  they  are  longer  con- 
tinued, applies  only  to  the  susceptibilities  and  the  resulting 
pleasure.  "  It  is,"  says  Paley,  "  a  law  of  the  machine  for 
which  we  know  no  remedy,  that  the  organs  by  which  we 
receive  pleasure  are  blunted  and  benumbed  by  being  fre- 
quently exercised  in  the  same  way.  There  is  hardly  any 
one  who  has  not  found  the  difference  between  a  gratifica- 
tion when  new  and  when  familiar,  nor  any  pleasure  which 
does  not  become  indifferent  as  it  grows  habitual."  It  is, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  law  of  the  powers  that  they  gain 
strength  by  activity,  become  more  masterly,  and  more 
and  more  capable  of  being  the  source  of  a  high  joy  and 
blessedness. 

Here,  then,  is  a  radical  contrast  between  the  good  from 
the  susceptibilities  and  from  the  powers.  The  one  is  like 
a  vessel  full  and  sparkling  at  first,  but  gradually  wasting 
away  and  becoming  vapid ;  the  other  is  like  a  fountain 
whose  waters  well  up  the  more  freely  the  more  they  over- 
flow. 

A  second  difference  is  to  be  found  in  the  rank  of  these 
two  forms  of  good. 

Pleasure  is  a  good  in  itself,  and  so  an  ultimate  end  ;  but 
for  the  most  part  it  is  also  a  means  to  something  beyond 
itself.  This  is  especially  true  of  legitimate  pleasure^  It 
seems  to  have  been  intended  as  an  inducement  to  the  per- 
formance of  acts  which  are  to  have  remote  consequences 
of  which  the  agents  themselves  are  often  either  ignorant 
or  regardless.  The  pleasure  of  the  child,  and  of  the  man 
too,  in  eating,  and  in  muscular  movement,  is  the  induce- 
inont  to  do  that  which  is  necessarj^or  the  upbuilding  of 


62  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

the  body,  but  for  which  they  generally  have  no  care.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  good  from  the  activity  of  the  powers, 
as  in  loving  and  in  worshipping,  is  an  end  in  itself,  and  has 
no  reference  to  anything  beyond  itself. 

There  is  a  third  difference.  We  always  feel  ourselves  at 
liberty  to  forego  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure,  and  respect 
ourselves  when  we  do  this  for  the  sake  of  the  good  which 
comes  from  the  activity  of  the  powers,  but  never  the  re- 
verse. These  two  are  often,  and  to  some  extent  naturally, 
opposed,  and  it  is  a  part  of  the  conflict  of  life  to  keep 
pleasure  within  its  proper  limits. 

We  have  thus,  from  our  susceptibilities,  a  good  which 
we  may  call  x>lea8ure.  From  the  activity  of  our  powers, 
voluntary  and  moral,  we  have  a  good  higher  and  different 
in  kind,  for  which  we  need  a  distinctive  name,  but  which 
we  will  here  call  happiness.  This  will  differ  with  the 
powers,  intellectual,  86sthetic,  moral,  spiritual,  which  are  in 
exercise.  By  these,  taking  cognizance  practically,  aestheti- 
cally, scientifically  of  the  works  of  God,  apprehending  the 
character  and  wants  of  man,  being  brought  into  relation 
to  the  attributes  and  character  of  God,  man  is  capable 
not  only  of  the  ajopropriate  enjoyment  from  such  cogni- 
tions, but  also  of  putting  forth  in  love  all  the  activity  of 
his  nature  for  the  good  of  the  whole.  What  of  good 
there  may  be  from  these  can  be  known  only  by  expe- 
rience, but  clearly  it  need  be  limited  only  by  our  capacity. 

My  own  belief  is  that  that  part  of  our  nature  through 
which  we  have  the  highest  good  lies  open  to  the  direct 
action  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  as  the  susceptibilities  do  to 
that  of  the  objects  around  us;  that  thus  we  may  apprehend 
him  directly ;  and  that  in  his  response  to  this,  in  love,  man 
is  capable  of  a  good  that  is  ineffable,  and  may  be  called 
"•fidness  of  joy  ^"^  or  ^blessedness.    The  capacity  for  this  I 


FORCES  AND  FACULTIES.  63 

suppose  as  much  belonged  to  man  originally  as  his  capa- 
city  for  perceiving  beauty. 

The  above  distinctions  are  practical,  and,  from  the  ten- 
dency there  is  in  men  to  seek  pleasure  in  opposition  to 
their  higher  good,  are  worthy  of  careful  attention. 


We  now  turn  fiora  this  broad  classification  of  good  to 
mquire  for  the  basis  of  one  that  is  more  exact.  We  speak 
of  good  as  higher  and  lower,  and  we  have  an  instinctive 
feeling  that  some  forms  of  good  are  higher  than  others. 
Is  there  a  criterion  by  which  we  may  determine  what  is 
higher  and  what  is  lower  ? 

In  answering  this  question,  I  hope  for  indulgence  if  I 
enter  upon  a  range  somewhat  wide.  Moral  science  has 
usually  been  studied  as  isolated.  My  wish  is  to  connect  it 
with  the  laws  of  that  physical  system  which  not  only  sup- 
ports man,  but  has  its  culmination  in  him.  I  wish  to  show 
that  there  runs  through  both  one  principle  of  gradation, 
and  one  law  for  the  limitation  of  forces  and  activities, 
and  so  of  the  forms  of  good  resulting  from  them.  If  this 
can  be  done,  it  will  add  to  both  i)hysical  and  moral  science 
the  beauty  of  a  higher  unity  than  has  commonly  been 
noticed,  and  will  show  that  there  could  have  been  but  one 
author  for  both. 

All  good,  and  all  arrangements  conditional  for  good,  are 
the  result  of  some  activity.  They  are  in  or  from  it.  Ar- 
rangements conditional  for  good  are  the  product  of  forces, 
good  itself  of  faculties.  A  faculty  is  a  force  united  to  per- 
sonality and  subject  to  the  control  of  the  will.  What  wc 
need  to  find,  then,  is  a  common  law  for  the  subordination 
and  limitation  of  both  forces  and  faculties. 

This  we  find  in  their  relation  to  each  other  as  condi 
tional   and   conditioned.      The  forces  that   arc   at   work 


64  LECTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

around  us  and  the  faculties  within  us,  from,  the  lowest  tft» 
the  highest,  may  be  ranked  as  higher  and  lower  as  they 
are  or  are  not  a  condition  one  for  another.  That  which  is 
a  condition  for  another  is  always  the  lower. 

In  anything  we  may  choose  to  examine,  —  a  house,  or 
a  portion  of  matter,  —  we  shall  find  some  conceptions  or 
properties  that  may  be  spared,  and  yet  the  thing  continue 
to  be  that  thing.  But  we  may  continue  our  analysis  till 
we  reach  certain  properties  or  conceptions  which  are  indis- 
pensable, which  underlie  all  others,  and  are  conditional  for 
that  thing.  So  it  is  with  solidity,  or  the  occupation  of 
space,  in  matter;  so  with  the  foundation  of  a  house. 
These  may  be  of  no  importance  in  themselves,  but  all- 
important  as  conditions  for  something  above  them. 

It  is  this  relation  of  the  forces  of  the  universe  and  of 
their  products  to  each  other,  as  conditional  and  condi- 
tioned, that  gives  to  it  its  unity.  If  its  forces  were 
diverse,  it  would  not  be  a  universe,  —  that  is,  if  they  were 
so  diverse  as  to  be  free  from  this  relation.  Any  being  or 
thing  conditioned  upon  nothing  in  the  present  system,  and 
the  condition  of  nothing,  would  be  so  utterly  out  of  rela- 
tion as  to  be  alien  from  every  conception  of  unity. 

In  seeking,  then,  for  the  law  of  subordination  and  limit- 
ation of  the  forces  of  the  universe,  we  must  begin  at  the 
lowest,  and  to  find  that,  we  must  continue  to  drop  from  our 
conceptions  of  the  universe  every  force  and  product  that 
can  be  spared  till  we  reach  that  which  being  taken  away 
the  universe  would  be  dissipated,  would  become  utter 
chaos,  and  so,  having  no  unity,  would  cease  to  be  a  uni- 
verse. What  is  that  force?  Plainly  it  is  the  law  of  grav- 
itation. By  this,  particles  of  matter  that  would  otherwise 
be  chaotic,  are  aggregated,  and  its  masses  move  in  har- 
mony.   This  is  a  universal  force.    It  is  conditional  for  the 


HIGHER  AND  LOWER  FORCES.  ^  65 

activity  of  every  other,  and  is  the  lowest  of  all.  The  pro- 
duct of  this  would  be  mere  unsorted  matter  aggregated 
and  moving  in  systems,  and  would  be  the  lowest  concep- 
tion we  could  form  of  a  physical  universe.  It  would  be 
the  first  approximation  towards  a  good,  —  the  first  step 
conditional  for  all  others ;  for  that  which  we  find  last  in 
thus  going  back  must  have  been  first  in  the  order  of  nature, 
if  not  of  time. 

Gravitation  being  thus  given,  what,  in  going  down,  is 
the  last  force  we  should  have  been  obliged  to  drop  before 
reaching  this?  What,  in  going  up,  would  be  the  next 
step  to  fit  matter  for  any  use  to  which  we  can  suppose  it 
might  be  put?  It  would  be  to  bring  matter,  chiefly  of 
the  same  kind,  into  solid  masses  by  what  we  call  the 
attraction  of  cohesion.  For  this  gravitation  is  plainly  con- 
ditional, since  matter  must  be  aggregated  before  it  can 
cohere.    This  gives  us  the  next  higher  force. 

The  next  force  needed,  for  we  will  now  pass  up,  is  chem- 
ical affinity.  By  this,  particles  of  matter  having  different 
properties  are  united,  and  form  compounds.  In  the  pres- 
ent state  of  our  knowledge  it  cannot,  perhaps,  be  proved 
that  cohesion  is  always  conditional  for  chemical  affinity. 
If  not,  these  two  forces  must  be  ranked  with  those  groups 
to  be  spoken  of  hereafter.  The  compounds,  however, 
formed  by  this  force  are  conditional  for  the  action  of  that 
power  which  we  call  life.  The  power  of  life  assimilates 
nothing  which  has  not  previously  entered  into  combination 
by  this  affinity. 

Through  the  action  of  the  three  forces  now  mentioned 
we  may  have  the  conception  of  a  world,  inorganic,  desti- 
tute of  life,  and  having  its  unity  solely  from  the  fact  that 
its  forces  are  thus  conditional  and  conditioned. 

J5ut  the  inorganic  worH  is  conditional  for  that  which 
6* 


66  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

is  organic,  and  is  under  the  control  of  that  princi])le  or 
force  called  life.  And  here,  again,  we  have  three  great 
forces  with  their  products.  These  are  the  vegetable,  the 
animal,  and  the  rational  life. 

Of  these,  vegetable  life  is  the  lowest.  Its  products  are 
as  strictly  conditional  for  animal  life  as  chemical  affinity 
is  for  vegetable  life,  for  the  animal  is  nourished  by  nothing 
that  has  not  been  previously  elaborated  by  the  vegetable. 
"  The  profit  of  the  earth  is  for  all ;  the  king  himself  h 
served  by  the  field." 

Again,  we  have  the  animal  and  sensitive  life,  capable  of 
enjoyment  and  suffering,  and  having  the  instincts  neces- 
sary to  its  preservation.  This,  as  man  is  now  constituted, 
is  conditional  for  his  rational  life.  The  rational  life  has  its 
roots  in  that,  and  manifests  itself  only  through  the  organi- 
zation which  that  builds  up.  %tAJ^ 

We  have,  then,  finally,  and  highest  of  all,  this  rational 
and  moral  life,  by  which  man  is  made  in  the  image  of  God. 
In  man,  as  thus  constituted,  we  first  find  a  being  who  is 
capable  of  choosing  his  own  end ;  or,  rather,  of  choosing 
or  rejecting  the  end  indicated  by  his  whole  nature.  This 
is  moral  freedom,  and  in  this  is  the  precise  point  of  transi- 
tion from  all  that  is  below  to  that  which  is  highest.  For 
everything  below  man  the  end  is  necessitated.  Whatever 
choice  there  may  be  in  the  agency  of  animals  of  means  for 
the  attainment  of  their  end,  —  and  they  have  one  some- 
what wide, —  they  have  none  in  respect  to  the  end  itself. 
This,  for  our  purjDose,  and  for  all  purposes,  is  the  character- 
istic distinction,  so  long  sought,  between  man  and  the  brute. 
Man  determines  his  own  end;  the  end  of  the  brute  is 
necessitated.  Up  to  man  everything  is  driven  to  its  end 
by  a  force  working  from  without,  or  froni  behind ;  but  fqr 


BUCCESSIYE  PLATFORMS.  67 

him  the  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire  puts  itself  in  front,  and 
he  follows  it  or  not,  as  he  chooses. 

In  the  above  cases  it  will  be  seen  that  the  process  is  one 
of  the  addition  of  new  forces,  with  a  constant  limitation 
of  the  field  within  which  the  forces  act.  The  sphere  of 
gravitation  is  wider  than  that  of  cohesion.  Cohesion  rests 
upon  it  as  upon  a  base.  The  sphere  of  cohesion  is  wider 
than  that  of  chemical  affinity;  that  of  chemical  affinity 
wider  than  that  of  life ;  that  of  vegetable  life  wider  than 
that  of  animal  life;  and  that  of  animal  life  wider  than 
that  of  rational  life.  Hence,  the  plan  of  the  creation  may 
be  compared  to  a  pyramid,  growing  narrower  by  suc- 
cessive platforms.  It  is  to  be  noticed,  however,  that  while 
the  field  of  each  added  and  superior  force  is  narrowed,  yet 
nothing  is  dropped.  Each  lower  force  shoots  through,  and 
combines  itself  with  all  that  is  higher.  Because  he  is 
rational,  man  is  not  the  less  subject  to  gravitation,  and 
cohesion,  and  chemical  affinity.  He  has  also  the  organic 
life  that  belongs  to  the  plant,  and  the  sensitive  and  instinc- 
tive life  that  belongs  to  the  animal.  In  him  none  of  these 
are  dropped ;  but  the  rational  life  is  united  with  and  super- 
induced upon  all  these,  so  that  man  is  not  only  a  micro- 
cosm, but  is  the  natural  head  and  ruler  of  the  world.  Ho 
partakes  of  all  that  is  below  him,  and  becomes  man  by  the 
addition  of  something  higher. 

If  now  we  pass  to  the  physical  system  of  man,  we  shall 
find  that  it  is  composed  of  various  systems  and  groups  of 
systems  which  are  conditional  and  conditioned  in  the 
same  way. 

Here  again  there  are  three  divisions.  In  the  lowest 
group  we  have  those  systems  which  are  for  building  and 
repairing ;  in  the  next  higher,  those  which  are  for  support 
and  locomotion;  and  in  the  third  those  which  are  for  sensar 


68  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tion  and  direction ;  and  each  lower  group  is  conditioifal  for 
the  higher. 

In  the  several  groups,  also,  the  same  general  order  holds. 
Among  the  builders  or  repairers  the  nutritive  or  digestive 
system  is  the  lowest.  This  is  conditional  for  the  circula- 
tory, this  for  the  respiratory,  and  this  again  for  the  secre- 
tory and  assimilative.  In  the  systems  for  support  and 
locomotion,  the  osseous  system  is  conditional  for  the  mus- 
cular; and  that  system  of  nerves  which  is  for  sensation  is 
conditional  for  that  which  is  for  motion  and  direction. 

Whether  these  subordinate  systems  can  all  be  placed 
in  a  right  line  is  not  important.  It  is  now  conceded  that 
in  the  classification  of  animals  and  of  plants  there  are 
groups  within  which  no  precise  order  can  yet  be  traced. 
But  in  all  cases,  —  and  here  is  the  principle  contended 
for, — if  the  end  accomplished  by  any  system  or  group  be 
conditional  for  any  other  end  beyond  itself  it  will  be  lower 
than  that  end.  Thus,  building  and  repairing  are  lower 
than  support  and  movement ;  and  these  are  lower  than 
sensation  and  direction. 

Nor  does  this  law  stop  here.  It  applies  to  the  mind. 
In  this,  too,  according  to  the  latest  and  best  classification, 
there  are  three  groups,  and  each  lower  is  conditional  for 
the  higher.  There  is  first  the  intellect,  including  what  are 
sometimes  called  the  cognitive  faculties,  —  all  our  facul- 
ties of  knowing.  These  are  conditional  for  the  emotive 
or  pathematic  nature,  including  all  the  feelings  and  emo- 
tions consequent  upon  knowledge.  These  again  are  con- 
ditional for  what  Sir  William  Hamilton  calls  our  conativo 
powers,  those  of  desire  and  of  will. 

In  each  of  these  we  have  a  group,  which  we  need  not 
now  examine  ;  but  we  shall  find  running  through  each  the 
same  principle  of  order  and  arrangement  already  noticed. 


AtETHOD  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  6& 

We  have  thus  a  beautiful  gradation  from  those  "  founda- 
tions of  the  earth "  laid  by  God,  and  "  the  corner-stone 
thereof,"  up  to  the  point  at  which  "the  morning  stars  sang 
together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

But  in  attaining  and  preserving  the  unity  and  order  of 
the  universe,  God's  methods  are  two.  Besides  this  of  ad- 
dition, there  is  another  applicable  only  to  organic  beings, 
that  of  development.  In  all  organic  beings  there  is  some- 
thing central  and  enveloped,  and  the  being  reaches  his  per- 
fection by  being  developed. 

In  some  respects  this  is  the  reverse  of  the  other  method. 
In  that,  in  making  our  analysis,  and  seeing  what  we  car 
spare,  we  reach  that  which  is  lowest ;  but  in  this,  by  the 
game  process,  we  reach  that  which  is  highest.  If  we  ask 
what  the  last  thing  is  in  the  universe  that  can  be  spared, 
and  unity  remain,  it  is  gravitation,  the  lowest  force  ;  but  if 
we  ask  what  the  last  thing  in  man  is  that  can  be  spared 
and  he  remain  a  man,  it  will  be  that  in  him  by  v/hich  he 
is  highest.  In  the  method  of  additions  that  which  is  most 
fundamental,  which  is  first  in  the  order  of  our  conceptions, 
is  lower  than  that  which  is  later,  and  serves  it.  But  in  the 
method  of  development  that  which  is  the  most  funda- 
mental and  first  is  the  highest,  and  all  else  is  lower  as  it 
is  less  or  more  essential  to  this.  Here  the  lower  are  a 
condition  for  the  development  of  the  higher,  but  still  are 
conceived  of  as  coming  in  later.  Here,  therefore,  when 
anything  is  spoken  of  as  a  condition,  it  is  not  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  condition  of  being,  but  of  development.  In 
both  methods  the  principle  of  arrangement  already  stated 
will  hold  ;  that  is,  if  the  end  accomplished  be  a  condition 
for  any  other  end  beyond  itself,  then  it  will  be  lower  than 
that  end,  and  all  the  means  and  apparatus  for  producing 
it  will  be  lower  than  those  for  producing  the  higher  end. 


70  LECttTRES  ON  MOHaL  SClEi^CE. 

In  the  range  of  conditioned  forces  and  systems  above 
spoken  of  we  find  no  good  till  we  come  to  the  gratification 
there  is  in  the  lowest  sensitive  being  from  the  assimilation 
of  food,  and  in  the  performance  of  those  functions  which 
are  at  once  the  condition  for  life,  and  by  which  life  mani- 
fests itself.  From  that  point  the  rank  of  the  good  rises 
precisely  as  the  systems  do  through  their  whole  gradation 
till  we  reach  the  highest  of  all. 

We  thus  find  the  law  of  subordination  both  of  forces 
and  their  products,  and  of  susceptibilities  and  faculties, 
and  of  the  good  resulting  from  their  activity.  This  w^e 
needed  here  because  there  is  involved  in  it,  or  results 
immediately  from  it,  what  I  shall  venture  to  call  the  law  of 
limitation.  /By  this  I  mean  the  law  which  fixes  the  proper 
limit  of  every  form  of  activity,  and  so  of  every  kind  of 
good  except  the  highest ;  and  so  will  enable  us  to  live  in 
the  best  sense  of  that  much-abused  expression,  "according 
to  nature."  , 

This  is  a  point  of  great  importance  in  morals.  Accord 
ing  to  an  ancient  theory,  that  of  Aristotle,  virtue  and  good 
consist  in  proportion,  or  the  golden  mean.  It  is  readily 
seen  that  many  things,  that  most  things  which  men  use 
and  enjoy,  are  good  up  to  a  certain  point,  but  that,  carried 
beyond  that  point,  they  become,  if  not  in  themselves,  yet 
relatively,  evil.  The  pleasures  of  the  senses  and  of  the 
appetites  are  good,  but  may  be  readily  carried  to  excess. 
Where  is  the  limit?  Amusement  is  good,  the  pursuit  of 
money  is  good.  Where  is  the  limit?  There  is  a  wide 
range  of  questions  which  arise  at  this  point  in  respect  to 
the  use  of  things  lawful.  How  far  may  we  go  in  dress  ? 
in  expense?  in  conformity  to  fashion,  and  the  usages  of 
those  around  us  ?  To  determine  these  questions  we  need 
gome  plain  criterion.     Besides,  there  are  those  who  think 


TttE  Law  op  limitation.  71 

all  pleasure  and  good  alike  except  in  intensity  and  dura- 
tion. Paley  thought  so.  The  sensualist  makes  an  irrup- 
tion upon  us  and  says  that  his  joys  are  as  high  as  any 
othei-s,  —  that  is,  in  his  opinion,  and  that,  on  such  a  sub- 
ject, the  opinion  of  one  man  is  as  good  as  that  of  another. 
It  is  a  mere  question  of  taste  and  feeling,  and  there  is  no 
standard.  We  are  also  asked  by  another  class,  as  by 
Whewell,  "  How  are  we  to  measure  happiness,  and  thus 
to  proceed  to  ascertain  by  what  acts  it  may  be  increased  ? 
If  we  can  do  this,  then  indeed  we  may  extract  rules  and 
results  from  the  maxim  that  we  are  to  increase  our  own 
and  others'  happiness ;  but  without  this  step,"  which  he 
plainly  supposes  cannot  be  taken,  we  "  can  draw  no  con- 
sequences from  the  maxim."*  For  such  cases  and  inquiries 
we  need  a  law  of  subordination  and  of  limitation,  a  test 
and  measure  both  of  activity  and  of  good. 

If  man  would  enjoy  his  whole  good,  it  is  obvious  that 
his  life  must  be  a  unity  as  the  universe  is,  so  that  all  the 
forces  that  conspire  to  make  it  up  may  act  in  harmony.. 
This  would  give  all  possible  good.  But  the  method  of 
attaining  this  is  clearly  set  before  us  in  the  method  pur- 
sued by  God  in  making  the  universe  one.  As  the  forces 
in  man,  that  is,  his  faculties,  bear  the  same  relation  to  each 
other  that  the  forces  in  nature  do,  we  shall  find  their 
proper  limit  by  finding  the  limit  which  God  fixes  in  pro- 
portioning the  conditional  and  conditioned  forces  of  na- 
ture. His  method  of  doing  this  is  to  give  to  each  lower 
force  precisely  the  relative  strength  that  shall  make  it 
most  perfect  as  a  condition  for  the  activity  of  those  above 
it,  and  which  are  conditioned  by  it.  It  is  to  carry  that 
which  is  an  end  in  one  sphere  no  further  than  will  fit  it 
to  become  a  means  for  the  one  next  above.  Gravitation 
•  Vol.  I.,  B.  in. 


7^  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

is  a  necessary  means  and  condition  of  cohesion ;  these  two 
of  chemical  affinity ;  these  three  of  organic  life,  and  so  on; 
but  no  lower  end  is  pursued  one  jot  beyond  the  point 
where  it  may  become  the  means  of  a  higher  end.  Each 
force  is  limited  at  the  point  where  it  may  best  subserve 
the  force  above  it.  If  gravitation  were  stronger  than  it 
is  it  would  prevent  the  ascent  of  the  sap  altogether,  or 
would  cause  a  dwarfed  vegetation.  Man  could  not  lift  his 
foot,  or  only  as  he  now  pulls  it  from  a  clay-bed.  The  bird 
could  fly  but  a  short  distance,  and  with  weary  wing.  If 
its  force  were  less,  we  should  be  liable  to  be  blown  away, 
the  equilibrium  of  all  bodies  would  be  less  stable,  and  the 
earth  would  be  constantly  sending  off  meteoric  stones  to 
astonish  the  inhabitants  and  puzzle  the  philosophers  of 
other  planets.  As  it  is,  gravitation  will  be  found  to  have 
precisely  that  force  which  is  best  for  the  stable  equilibrium 
of  bodies,  for  the  ascent  of  sap  to  its  proper  height,'and  in 
animals  for  agility  and  firmness  combined.  If  chemical 
,  affinities  were  stronger  than  they  are,  the  power  of  life 
would  be  unable  to  disengage  the  materials  with  which 
to  build  up  the  plant  and  the  body ;  if  they  were  weaker, 
that  power  could  not  prevent  vegetable  and  animal  de- 
composition and  corruption  even  before  death.  Thus  shall 
we  find  it  throughout  the  whole  range  of  forces  in  nature 
and  in  man.  Hence  the  law  of  limitation  will  be,  that 
every  activity  may  be  put  forth,  and  so  every  good  be 
enjoyed,  up  to  the  point  where  it  is  most  perfectly  con- 
ditional for  a  higher  good.  Anything  beyond  that  will  be 
excess  and  evil.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  works  of  nature 
as  distinguished  from  those  of  men  that  her  ends  are  also 
means,  but  she  never  pursues  such  an  end  beyond  the 
point  at  which  it  would  cease  to  be  a  means. 

Here,  then,  is  our  model  and  law.    Have  we  a  lower 


THE  LAW  Oi^  LHVIItATlON.  73 

sensitive  and  animal  nature  ?  Let  that  nature  be  cher- 
ished and  expanded  by  all  its  innocent  and  legitimate  en- 
joyments, for  it  is  an  end.  But,  —  and  here  we  find  the 
limit, — let  it  be  cherished  only  as  subservient  to  the  higher 
intellectual  life,  for  it  is  also  a  means.  Let  the  intellectual 
nature  have  its  full  growth ;  let  it  scale  every  height,  and 
sound  every  depth,  for  it  is  an  end  ;  but  let  it  do  this  only 
in  subservience  to  the  higher  emotive,  moral  and  spiritual 
nature,  for  this,  too,  is  a  means.  Thus  let  each  of  these, 
while  it  fulfils  its  own  ends,  so  fulfil  them  as  to  minister 
to  the  sphere  above,  until  we  come  to  that  which  is  not 
a  means,  but  is  of  itself  an  end,  and  an  absolute  good. 
Men  may  enjoy  pleasure,  may  use  intoxicating  drinks  and 
narcotics  to  any  extent  they  please,  provided  it  shall  inter- 
fere with  no  higher  good.  They  may  indulge  in  expense, 
amusements,  fashion,  as  they  will,  if  there  is  nothing  liigher 
and  better  that  they  can  do.  Certainly  if  there  is  nothing 
better  they  can  do,  they  had  better  do  that.  The  law  ap- 
plies universally  so  long  as  there  is  a  good  that  is  condi- 
tional for  one  above  it,  —  so  long  as  there  is  an  end  that 
is  also  a  means.  But  when  we  reach  the  highest  and  su- 
preme good,  as  that  is  conditional  for  nothing  beyond 
itself,  there  can  then  be  no  excess.  That  is  infinite ;  it 
is  the  ocean  without  a  bottom  or  a  shore. 

Up  to  this  point  this  system  has  fully  met  the  wants  of 
that  part  of  our  nature  whose  activities  have  a  natural 
limit  which  cannot  be  passed  without  degradation  and 
loss  on  the  whole.  At  this  point  it  meets  those  indefi- 
nite yearnings  which  testify  to  the  connection  of  man  with 
the  Infinite,  and  are  the  presage  of  his  immortality. 

We  may  now  readily  see  how  far  Aristotle  was  right. 
His  system  had  a  basis,  and  not  a  narrow  one.  Much  of 
our  good  is  the  result  of  proportion  and  limitation,  an4 
7 


74  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

of  finding  the  golden  mean.  He  was  right  so  far  as  he 
went,  but  he  needed  the  law  of  limitation,  and  he  did  not 
see  the  ocean. 

It  will  be  observed  that  none  but  a  good  man  can  adopt 
the  model  above  proposed,  for  no  bad  act  can  be  at  once 
an  end  and  a  means.  Lying,  cheating,  stealing,  are  means 
only,  and  can  never  become  ends ;  but  every  good  act  is 
not  only  an  end  in  itself,  but  is  also  a  means  of  confinning 
him  who  does  it  in  habits  of  goodness ;  and  thus  he  who 
adopts  this  model  will  find  provision  in  it  that  his  path 
shall  be  as  that  of  the  just,  "  shining  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day." 

The  law  of  limitation,  above  given,  implies  the  natural 
law  of  self-denial. 

This  requires  us  to  reject  no  good  cynically  because  it  is 
a  good.  It  respects  every  part  of  the  human  constitution 
as  made  by  God,  and  gives  free  play  to  every  activity 
within  its  own  limits.  It  says,  with  an  apostle,  that 
"  every  creature  of  God  is  good,  and  nothing  is  to  be 
refused  if  it  be  received  with  thanksgiving."  Any  suppos- 
able  strength  in  the  appetites  will  only  give  force  to  the 
character,  jDrovided  the  governing  powers  keej)  them  wholly 
ander  control.  "No  matter  how  strong  and  spirited  the 
horses  if  they  are  trained  to  perfect  subjection.  So  with 
the  desires.  The  desire  of  knowledge  and  of  power  and 
of  esteem  cannot  be  too  great  if  they  do  not  conflict  with 
the  affections  and  the  moral  nature.  As  they  are  stronger, 
they  will  but  afford  a  richer  soil  in  which  these  can  strike 
their  roots,  and  thus  furnish  the  sap  for  a  more  abundant 
fruitage.  And  so  it  is  with  every  lower  form  of  activity. 
The  stronger  it  is,  the  better  for  those  above  it,  if  it  does 
not  conflict  with  them.  The  stronger  and  more  healthy 
the  bo«iy,  if  a  man  be  not  at  all  animalized  through  it,  the 


LAW  OP  SELF-DENIAL.  75 

better  for  every  mental  faculty,  and  for  every  high  and 
healthful  form  of  affection  and  emotion.  The  law  requires 
the  restriction  or  denial  of  every  appetite,  desire,  propen- 
sity, passion,  at  the  point  where  it  would  interfere  with 
something  higher,  and  only  at  that  point.  This  is  the  nat- 
ural and  original  law.  But  if  moral  disorder  has  come 
in  and  become  habitual,  if  great  interests  are  at  stake  in 
circumstances  of  temptation  and  struggle,  it  may  be  wise, 
and  eten  a  duty,  to  ignore  and  reject  many  pleasures  that 
might  otherwise  be  indulged  in,  as  the  soldier  who  hastens 
to  defend  his  country  may  npt  stop  to  enjoy  fine  scenery 
by  the  way.  -  -  -^^ 

This  gives  us  the  difference  between  the  natural  law  of 
self-denial  and  the  Chiistian  law.  (The  first  would  be  the 
law  for  a  man  in  health,  simply  requiring  that  nothing 
should  be  done  to  injure  that,  j  But  Christianity  is  wholly 
a  remedial  system.  "  They  that  are  whole  need  not  a  phy- 
sician, but  they  that  are  sick ;"  and  the  law  of  self-denial  as 
a  remedy,  or  as  a  condition  for  the  working  of  other  reme- 
dies, may  be  as  different  from  its  natural  law  as  the  regi- 
men of  a  sick  man  should  be  from  that  of  one  who  is  well.) 
It  has  been  from  a  consciousness  of  disorder  that  difficuU 
ties  and  obscurity  have  arisen  at  this  point.  There  has 
been  a  feeling  that  self-denial,  as  well  as  self-torture,  was 
compensatory ;  and  then,  when  the  lower  powers  had  gone 
to  excess,  it  is  not  strange  that  there  should  be  a  tendency 
to  their  undue  repression,  and  even  eradication.  This 
has  given  rise  to  asceticism,  and  penances,  and  to  a  vast 
brood  of  superstitious  observances.  But  precisely  what 
the  natural  law  is  in  its  place,  that  the  Christian  law  is  in 
its  place.  Under  Christianity  self-denial  is  not  a  remedy, 
but  the  condition  for  the  working  of  remedies,  and  its  law 


76  LECTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

is  that  it  shall  be  carried  just  so  far  as  is  necessary  for  tht 
best  working  of  those  great  remedies  which  God  has  pro- 
vided for  the  moral  disorders  of  this  world.  This  may 
often  make  self-denial  very  severe,  but  only  as  it  is  salutary. 
It  may  require  the  cutting  off  of  a  right  hand,  or  the  pluck- 
ing out  of  a  right  eye,  but  only  on  the  condition  that  they 
"offend,"  that  is,  cause  you  to  stumble  in  your  course 
towards  heaven. 

In  what  has  been  said  hitherto,  the  dependence  of  the 
higher  upon  the  lower  forces  and  powers  has  been  promi- 
nent. So  long  as  these  powers  remain  within  the  limits  of 
unconsciousness,  the  right  proportion  is  always  preserved ; 
but  when  they  come  under  the  direction  of  a  finite,  and 
especially  of  a  perverted  will,  that  proportion  is  not  pre- 
served. The  danger  is  that  the  dependence  of  the  higher 
upon  the  lower  will  be  ignored,  that  the  lower  will  in 
consequence  be  neglected  and  deteriorate,  and  then  that 
the  higher  itself,  the  fountain  of  its  sap  being  dried,  will 
dwindle  and  wither.  So  is  it  always  when  a  short-sighted 
selfishness  would  snatch  too  soon  and  grasp  too  much ;  so 
always  when  men  would  reach  their  ends  by  circumvent- 
ing or  evading  those  laws  by  which  God  has  appointed 
that  they  should  be  gained. 

The  law  —  and  this  is  especially  true  in  organic  life  —  is, 
that  that  which  is  highest  can  increase  only  through  the 
ministration  of  the  parts  that  are  lower,  and  hence  that  the 
perfection  of  the  highest  in  its  sphere  can  be  reached  only 
as  the  lower  are  made  perfect  in  their  sphere.  In  training 
a  child,  would  any  one  secure  the  highest,  the  best  balanced, 
and  the  longest  continued  action  of  the  mind,  he  can  do  it 
only  by  so  attending  to  the  body  as  to  secure  the  priceless 
but  subordinate  blessings  of  health  and  a  sound  physical 


METHOD  APPLIED.  77 

constitution.  Would  you  have  heaithy  feeling?  Cultivate 
the  intellect,  else  feeling  will  be  fanatical.  So  has  God 
constituted  every  organic  being  that  "  if  one  member  suf- 
fer all  the  members  suffer  with  it."  Yea,  and  so  that 
upon  "  those  members  of  the  body  which  we  think  to  be 
less  honorable  we  should  bestow  more  abundant  honor;" 
since  the  perfection  of  the  more  honorable  members  that 
are  ministered  unto  can  be  attained  only  through  the  per- 
fection of  the  less  honorable  that  minister.  Our  end  may 
be  the  perfection  of  the  higher ;  our  method  must  be  to 
secure  it  through  the  perfection  of  the  lower. 

This  method  is  one  of  wide  application.  It  teaches  us; 
while  we  aim  at  the  highest,  to  care  for  the  lowest ;  while 
we  aim  at  the  mind,  to  care  for  the  body ;  while  we  aim  at 
a  perfect  government,  to  care  for  the  people  and  to  seek 
to  educate  and  elevate  them;  wliile  we  aim  at  perfect 
social  organizations,  to  give  woman  her  true  place,  not  as 
inferior,  but  as  different.  "No  element  of  reaction  upon 
progress  can  be  swifter  or  more  fatal  than  that  of  degraded 
mothers.  It  teaches  us  to  care  for  children,  and  serv- 
ants, and  slaves,  and  criminals.  Nature  herself  seems  to 
cry  out  to  us  to  do  this.  All  history  shows  how  men 
have  disregarded  this  method  and  law,  and  it  shows,  too, 
how  the  law  has  avenged  itself  by  bringing  down  the  high 
and  the  low  together.  This  is  indeed  the  one  gi-eat  lesson 
of  history.  It  needs  to  be  pondered,  more  especially  by 
republics,  where  the  barriers  of  form  and  of  force  are  so 
feeble ;  but  whatever  the  form  of  government  may  be,  the 
law  is  as  pervading  and  resistless  as  that  of  gravitation, 
and  the  result  is  only  a  question  of  time.  That  result  no 
form  of  heathen  civilization  has  been  able  to  prevent.  It 
can  be  but  one  so  long  as  successful  men  and  successful 
7* 


78  '     LECTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

classes  seek  with  a  blind  selfishness  to  elevate  themselves 
at  the  expense  of  others,  —  so  long  as  men  refuse  to  adopt 
the  models  of  method  which  God  has  set  before  them,  and 
thus  to  bind  society  together  in  an  organic  and  a  perfect 
whole. 


.      LECTURE    IV. 

BELATIOK  OF  INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  —  SPONTANEOUS 
AND  VOLUNTARY  ACTIVITY.  —  FACULTIES  INSTRUMENTAL  AND  ULTI- 
MATE. --  INSTINCT.  —  THE  APPETITES.  —  NATURAL  —  ARTIFICIAL.  —  THE 
DESIRES CLASSIFICATION   OF   THEM.  —  DESIRE   OF   CONTINUED   EXIST- 

|aiCE.  ■ 

The  nature  and  limitations  of  good  having  been  already- 
discussed,  we  now  proceed  to  consider  those  powers  from 
the  activity  of  which  good  results. 

This  brings  us  to  that  point  both  of  union  and  of  cleav- 
age between  mental  and  moral  science,  at  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  no  little  confusion  has  arisen.  Theoretically 
the  line  between  them  is,  or  may  be  made,  distinct;  but 
practically  the  treatment  of  the  one  will  include,  in  some 
measure,  that  of  the  other.  What  man  ought  to  do  will 
depend  on  what  he  is,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
is  placed.  Mental  science,  or  psychology,  will,  therefore, 
be  conditional  for  moral  science,  which  will  make  use  of 
the  fii-st,  and  is  the  higher  of  the  two.  The  province  of 
psychology  will  then  be  to  show  what  the  faculties  are ; 
that  of  moral  philosophy  to  show  how  they  are  to  be  used 
for  the  attainment  of  their  end.  Both  have  to  do  with  the 
faculties  of  the  mind,  but  in  different  aspects  ;  as  both  the 
botanist  and  the  agricultunst  have  to  do  with  wheat,  and 
the  astronomer  and  navigator  with  the  heavenly  bodies. 
The  botanist  classifies  wheat;  the  agriculturist  raises  it, 
and  cares  for  a  knowledge  of  its  class  only  as  it  will  ena- 

79 


80  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

ble  him  to  do  that.  The  astronomer  investigates  the  na- 
ture of  the  heavenly  bodies  and  their  relations  to  each 
other ;  the  navigator  regards  them  solely  as  the  means  by 
which  his  course  may  be  guided.  And  so  the  moral  phi- 
losopher does  not  care  for  the  nature  and  classification 
of  the  mental  fliculties  except  as  a  knowledge  of  these 
will  guide  him  to  their  right  use  and  proper  end.  So  far, 
however,  as  this  knowledge  will  thus  guide  him,  as  to  a 
great  extent  it  will,  he  is  bound  to  have  it. 

The  moral  philosopher  is,  therefore,  not  excluded  from 
the  domain  of  the  psychologist.  It  i^  his  domain.  It  is 
the  soil  into  which  his  science  strikes  its  roots ;  it  is  indis- 
pensable for  him  that  certain  portions  of  it,  at  least,  should 
be  rightly  cultivated ;  and  if  the  psychologist  does  not 
do  his  work  in  those  portions  as  he  thinks  it  ought  to  be 
done,  he  has  a  right  to  revise  it,  and  do  it  for  himself.  It 
is  not  to  be  allowed  that  the  mere  psychologist  may  lay 
down  such  doctrines  as  he  pleases  respecting  the  moral 
nature,  and  thus  virtually  determine  the  character  of  the 
science.  It  will,  moreover,  always  be  necessary  to  con- 
sider the  faculty  itself  in  determining  its  use,  and  to 
make  our  classifications  with  reference  to  the  objects  of 
moral  science. 

In  accordance  with  this  we  shall,  — 

I.  Distinguish  the  two  great  forms  of  mental  activity. 
These  are,  —  1st.  The  Spontaneous.  2d.  The  Voluntary, 
And, — 

II.  "We  shall  class  the  mental  faculties  as  they  are  re- 
lated to  ends.    And, — 

1st.  Of  the  mental  activities,  as  they  are  either,  1st, 
spontaneous ;  or,  2d,  voluntary. 

As  the  inorganic  world  underlies  and  is  conditional  for 
the  vegetable  world;  as  the  vegetable  is  conditional  for 


LIFE  AUTOMATIC.  81 

the  animal  world ;  as  the  automatic  or  organic  life  of  the 
body  is  conditional  for  its  animal  life,  so  is  there  an  auto- 
matic and  involuntary  life  of  the  mind  that  is  conditional 
for  its  voluntary  and  responsible  movements. 

All  life  is  inscrutable,  and  to  our  view  automatic.  How  it 
begins  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive,  since  it  manifests 
itself  only  through  organization,  while  there  is  no  organi- 
zation that  is  not  its  product.  In  vegetables  its  results  are 
seen  in  organizations  entirely  destitute  of  sensation  and  of 
will ;  and  in  the  animals  and  in  man,  the  conditions  being 
complied  with,  it  works  with  the  same  independence.  The 
circulation  of  the  blood  in  man,  digestion,  secretion,  assim- 
ilation, have  organs  appropriated  to  them  which  the  will 
does  not  reach,  and  they  go  on  by  laws  as  independent 
of  the  will  as  the  circulation  of  the  sap  in  vegetables. 
Through  these  organs  and  processes  there  are  built  up 
and  presented  to  us  the  organs  of  sensation  and  of  vol- 
untary motion,  but  we  cannot  say  what  they  shall  be. 
We  cannot  cause  this  power  of  life  to  build  up  such  a 
structure  as  we  should  like ;  we  cannot  add  one  cubit  to 
our  stature,  or  make  one  hair  white  or  black. 

But  precisely  as  we  find  the  heart  beating,  and  accept 
the  limbs  already  built  up,  so  do  we  find  the  mind  think- 
ing, and'  the  faculties  acting,  and  accept  them  as  they  are 
given.  Those  cravings  which  we  call  appetite  are  upon 
man  from  no  contrivance  of  his.  He  knows  and  can  know 
them  only  as  he  finds  them  acting.  He  finds  a  succession 
of  thoughts  bubbling  up,  like  water  from  a  fountain,  of 
which  he  knows  not  the  source,  and  the  flow  of  which  ho 
can  no  more  stop  than  he  can  the  flow  of  a  river.  No  man 
ever  thought  at  first  by  willing  to  think.  Adam  did  not. 
He  was  created  a  thinking  being,  and  thought  as  naturally 
and  as  necessarily  lus  he  breathed.    Nor  can  any  man  stop 


82  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

thinking  by  willing  it.  He  must  think.  He  may  control 
the  current  of  his  thoughts,  but  think  he  must ;  and  if 
his  thoughts  had  flowed  on  forever,  as  they  do  in  dreams, 
without  the  intervention  of  a  personal  power,  he  would 
have  been  a  thinking  thing.  Man,  also,  feels  desires 
springing  up.  These  he  may  or  may  not  gratify,  but  there 
they  are,  a  part  of  his  nature.  The  natural  affections,  too, 
put  forth  their  tendrils  like  the  vine,  and  quite  as  inde- 
pendently of  any  will  of  man. 

With  these  faculties  the  self-conscious,  rational,  personal 
being,  with  powers  of  supervision  and  comprehension,  is 
endowed  ;  into  this  nature  is  put,  or  rather  we  may  say  is 
so  incorporated  with  it  that  it  becomes  a  part  of  himself. 
This  nature  is  an  epitome  of  all  that  is  below  him,  and  he 
was  put  into  it  not  only  that  he  might  govern  himself,  but 
govern  it,  as  we  saw  in  the  last  lecture,  after  the  model  of 
that  government  which  God  exercises  over  nature  itself. 
This  is  the  garden  into  which  man  is  put  that  he  may 
dress  it  and  keep  it. 

Am  I,  then,  distinctly  understood  at  this  point  ?  Is  it 
seen  that  there  are  activities  going  on  within,  not  only  our 
bodies,  but  our  minds,  with  which  our  wills  have  as  little 
to  do  as  with  the  springing  up  of  the  grass  ?  These  facul- 
ties and  activities  are  one  thing,  and  we  are  another.  We 
are  responsible  for  the  activities  only  as  we  can  control 
them  directly  or  indirectly. 

In  this  original  and  spontaneous  nature  there  are  char- 
acteristics common  to  all  men,  and  also  diversities  appar- 
ently as  gi-eat  as  in  natural  scenery.  Some  natures  are 
richer  and  grander  than  others ;  they  tower  up  like  the 
great  mountains.  Some  are  more  easy  of  control,  and 
some  more  difficult. 

We  now  proceed,  as  was  proposed,  to  the  consideratiou 


CLASSIFICATION.  83 

and  classification  of  our  vaiious  faculties  and  powers  aa 
they  are  related  to  ends. 

In  this  aspect  the  faculties  or  powers  may  be  divided 
into  two  great  classes :  — 

I.  Those  which  are  instrumental  for  the  attainment  of 
ends  beyond  themselves.  This  is  the  first  class.  Here  we 
find,  —  I 

1st.  Those  which  indicate  ends.  These  are  the  In- 
stincts, the  Appetites,  the  Desires,  and  the  Natural  Affec- 
tions.    And,  — 

2d.  The  Intellect,  in  the  light  of  which  we  pursue  ends. 
These  are  the  Instrumental  Powers,  and  do  not  necessarily 
imply  a  moral  nature.     They  require  to  be  governed. 

II.  The  second  great  class  of  powers  arc  those  in  whose 
activity  we  find  ends  beyond  which  there  are  no  others. 
These  are  our  Moral  Nature. '  By  them  we  elect  and  sanc- 
tion ends.  They  govern,  or,  at  least,  ought  to  govern. 
These  are  the  powers  that  belong  to  man  as  a  person. 
They  are  Reason,  Moral  Affections,  and  Free-^^ill. 

The  Instrumental  Powers  are  neither  good  nor  bad  in 
themselves,  but  as  they  are  used.  Generically  we  share 
them  with  the  animals,  but  they  are  much  modified  by 
being  taken  into  connection  with  a  higher  nature. 

Let  us,  then,  first  consider  those  powers  which  indicate 
ends. 

In  the  conception  of  an  end  the  primary  element  is  not 
intellectual.  If  there  were  no  original,  no  rational  appre- 
hension of  good  involving  desirableness,  congruity,  auto- 
matic tendency,  impulse,  appetency  or  craving,  revealing 
some  want  to  be  satisfied,  or  capacity  of  enjoyment  to  be 
met,  we  could  have  no  conception  of  an  end.  In  our  anal- 
ysis in  this  direction  this  is  the  last  thing  that  we  reach, 
and  so  is  conditional  for  all  the  rest.    The  intellect  is  im* 


84  LECTURES  ON  MOKAL  SCIENCE. 

plied.  There  must  be  consciousness.  Every  mental  oper- 
ation, whether  perceptive  or  impulsive,  must  take  place  in 
the  light  of  that.  But  consciousness  being  given,  the  im- 
pulse towards  an  end  or  the  apprehension  of  it  as  having 
in  it  a  good,  is  the  primary  element  in  our  conception  of  an 
active,  as  distinguished  from  a  contemplative  being.  With- 
out such  impulse  or  apprehension,  the  objects  we  now  seek 
might  be  known  as  they  are  in  themselves,  but  not  as  ends 
for  us.  There  would  be  no  motive  for  the  voluntary  exer- 
tion of  the  intellect  even.  As  a  part  of  our  nature,  these 
impulses  are  generically  the  same  in  all  men,  but  reveal 
themselves  in  different  proportions,  and  in  them  we  find 
what  have  been  called  the  active  powers  of  man.  By 
this  it  is  not  meant  that  the  contemplative  powers  are  not 
active,  but  that  they  do  not,  and  these  do,  lead  to  action. 

The  powers  which  indicate  ends  are  commonly,  and,  as 
it  seems  to  me,  correctly  divided  into  the  Instincts,  the 
Appetites,  the  Desires,  and  the  Affections.  Of  these  there 
is  no  question  respecting  any  except  instinct,  the  existence 
of  which  in  man  has  sometimes  been  doubted. 

Instinct,  which  we  shall  first  consider,  is  defined  by 
Paley  to  be  "  a  propensity  prior  to  experience,  and  inde- 
pendent of  instruction."  It  leads  animals  obviously  des- 
titute of  either  understanding  or  reason  to  perform  the 
same  acts  as  if  possessed  of  those  powers  in  the  highest 
degree.  In  building  her  cells  the  bee  proceeds  on  the 
principles  of  mechanics  and  of  the  abstruser  mathematics. 
In  incubation  the  hen  seems  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the 
doctrine  of  different  specific  gravities,  and  turns  her  eggs 
over  regularly  because  the  yolk  is  slightly  heavier  than 
the  white.  Animals  with  migratory,  and  those  with  ac- 
quisitive instincts,  proceed  on  an  apparent  knowledge  of 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  for  months  in  the 
future. 


INSTINCT.  85 

In  all  animals  of  the  same  species  instinct  is  mostly  uni- 
form, and,  as^  we  descend  in  the  scale  of  creation,  becomes, 
m  the  inverse  ratio  of  understanding  and  reason,  more 
uniform,  more  blind,  and  more  perfect.  A  pure  and  un- 
perverted  instinct  may  always  be  trusted  implicitly.  A 
marvellous  and  a  beautiful  thing  it  is  to  see  "  the  stork  in 
the  heaven  knowing  her  appointed  times ;  and  the  turtle, 
and  the  crane,  and  the  swallow,  observe  the  time  of  their 
coming."  Surely,  here  "He  leadeth  the  blind  in  a  way 
that  they  know  not."  Here  extremes  meet  —  the  j^erfec- 
tion  of  reason  and  the  perfection  of  ignorance. 

But  as  the  light  of  understanding  and  reason  increases, 
the  glimmerings  of  instinct  seem  lost.  Accordingly,  most 
writers  on  morals  have  not  noticed  this  as  one  of  the  active 
powers,  or,  if  they  have,  have  spoken  of  it  as  confined 
almost  wholly  to  animals.  But  if  instinct  is  needed  by 
rational  creatures  we  shall  be  sure  to  find  it,  for  God  does 
not  care  less  for  them  than  for  the  ant  and  the  bee.  It 
would  be  in  accordance  with  all  we  have  hitherto  seen  of 
the  order  of  the  univei*se,  and  of  the  mode  in  which  its 
unity  is  secured,  if  we  should  find  this,  like  gravitation, 
passing  up  and  blending  itself  with  the  activity  of  the 
very  highest  power  of  its  own  order.  Or,  if  any  should 
suppose  that  this,  the  lowest  form  of  intelligent  action, 
cannot  blend  with  those  intuitions  of  reason  which  it  so 
much  resembles,  it  is  yet  pleasing  to  see  in  its  certain 
guidance  the  best  analogon  and  symbol  of  perfect  reason, 
just  as  gravitation,  which  is  the  lowest  motive  power,  is 
the  best  symbol  of  love,  which  is  the  highest  of  all. 

I  suppose,  however,  that  something  of  instinct  does 
blend  with  the  activity  of  our  highest  powers.  For  this, 
it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  be  under  the  guidance 
of  any  specific  instinct,  for  wherever  there  is  a  tendency 


Ob  LECTUEES  ON  MORAL   SCIENCE. 

in  our  nature  that  is  automatic,  there  we  find  the  instinc- 
tive element.  Hence  we  may,  and  do,  speak  of  rational 
instincts.  In  every  created  nature,  however  high,  there 
must  be  tendencies  and  yearnings  by  which  the  true  end 
of  the  being  shall  be  revealed  to  itself,  and  in  which  the 
first  movements  towards  that  end  shall  originate.  That  a 
good  of  any  kind  should  begin  to  be  sought  in  any  other 
way,  is  not  conceivable.  And  so  the  Scriptures  represent 
it.  They  speak  of  thirsting  for  God ;  and  the  Saviour  said, 
"  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  to  me  and  drink." 

Our  associations  with  instinct  may  be  low ;  but  it  is 
really  a  high  and  sacred  thing.  In  it  we  see  the  Highest 
stooping  to  the  lowest,  and  ilhistrating  that  care  and  guid- 
ance of  which  they  may  feel  secure  who  follow  the  prompt- 
ings of  any  nature  tlnit  is  unperverted,  and  as  it  came 
from  his  hand. 

"We  now  proceed  to  the  Appetites.  These  are  those 
cravings  of  the  animal  nature  which  have  for  their  object 
the  well-being  of  the  body  and  the  continuance  of  the  race. 

These  are  to  be  distinguished  from  a  desire  for  those 
pleasures  of  the  palate,  for  example,  with  which  they 
become  so  intimately  associated  that  they  are  seldom 
thought  of  separately.  The  craving  is  purely  instinctive, 
and,  as  such,  has  in  a  healthy  state  the  infallibility  of  in- 
stinct, both  in  indicating  and  measuring  the  wants  of  the 
system ;  but  the  pleasure  of  eating  and  drinking  will  be 
according  to  the  quality  and  condiments  of  the  material 
taken.  This  pleasure  may  be  perpetuated  far  beyond  the 
point  at  which  the  craving  is  satisfied;  and  the  modes 
of  causing  it  may  be  reduced  to  a  system  and  a  science. 
The  science  of  cookery  will  be  useful  as  it  fits  substances  to 
satisfy  the  craving,  and  so  for  assimilation ;  it  will  be  inju- 
rious as  it  merely  stimulates  tlje  palate.    If  the  substance 


THE  APPETITES.  87 

Btimulate  the  palate  slightly,  or  not  at  all,  as  water,  the 
craving  is  simply  satisfied,  and  there  is  no  danger  of  ex- 
cess ;  hut  the  more  stimulating  the  substance,  either  to  the 
specific  sense. connected  with  the  appetite,  or  to  tlie  nervous 
system  generally,  the  more  danger  there  is  of  excess  from 
confounding  the  excitement  of  the  sense,  or  the  nerves, 
with  the  demand  of  the  system. 

According  to  Stewart,  the  appetites  are  distinguished 
by  three  circumstances.  1st.  They  take  their  rise  from  the 
body.  2d.  They  are  periodicaL  3d.  They  originally  im- 
ply an  uneasy  sensation,  aflerwai-ds,  upon  experience,  a 
desire  for  their  appropriate  objects. 

The  appetites  are  usually  said  to  be  three,  —  hunger, 
thii-st,  and  the  appetite  of  sex.  But  there  are  tendencies 
and  cravings  that  may  more  properly  be  classed  with  the 
appetites  than  elsewhere.  These  are  the  craving  for  air, 
for  exercise,  for  rest,  and  for  sleep.  These  all  take  their 
rise  from  the  body,  are  periodical,  and  originally  imply  an 
uneasy  sensation ;  afterwards,  upon  experience,  a  desire  of 
their  appropriate  objects.  They  also  require  to  be  regu- 
lated on  precisely  the  same  principles  as  those  commonly 
ranked  as  appetites;  and  it  may  be  well  to  place  them 
here,  as  bringing  them  nearer  the  conscience,  since  all  con- 
cede that  the  regulation  of  the  appetites  is  a  duty. 

The  necessity  of  the  appetites  for  the  accomplishment 
of  their  immediate  ends  is  well  stated  by  Reid.  "  Though 
a  man  knew,"  says  he,  "  that  his  life  must  be  supported  by 
eating,  reason  could  aot  direct  him  when  to  eat,  or  what, 
how  ranch,  or  how  often.  In  all  these  things  appetite  is  a 
much  better  guide  than  reason.  Were  reason  only  to 
direct  us  in  this  matter,  its  calm  voice  would  often  be 
drowned  in  the  hurry  of  business  or  the  charms  of  amuse- 
ment.   But  the  voice  of  appetite  rises  gradually,  and  at 


88  LECTUBES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE* 

last  becomes  loud  enough  to  call  off  our  attention  from 
any  other  employment." 

As  they  are  means  of  sustaining  the  body  and  continu- 
ing the  race,  tlie  appetites  are  the  condition  for  all  that  is 
above  them.  But  besides  the  direct  objects  thus  immedi- 
ately secured,  they  are  also  closely  related  to  industry  and 
the  social  aflections.  The  craving,  which  is  the  radical 
and  constant  element  in  the  appetite,  is  relatM  to  industry, 
and  the  pleasure,  the  incidental  and  variable  element,  is 
related  to  the  social  affections. 

When  we  observe  how  busy  a  scene  this  world  is,  and 
what  human  labor  has  accomplished,  —  the  forests  it  has 
cleared,  the  fields  it  has  cultivated,  the  cities  it  has  built, 
the  ships  it  has  constructed,  the  oceans  it  has  navigated,  — 
we  are  little  aj^t  to  think  how  much  of  all  this  is  owing  to 
so  simple  a  cause  as  the  appetite  of  hunger.  "All  the  labor 
of  man,"  says  Solomon,  "  is  for  the  mouth,  yet  the  appetite 
is  not  satisfied."  Food  is  our  first,  and  is  a  constantly  re- 
curring want;  and  probably  the  amount  of  labor  for  obtain- 
ing and  preparing  it  is  greater  than  for  all  other  purposes. 
When  the  savage  has  plenty  of  food  he  does  little  but  eat 
and  sleep,  and  only  the  stimulus  of  hunger  can  goad  him 
on  to  the  labors  of  the  chase.  In  civilized  communities, 
those  who  turn  the  soil,  and  hew  the  wood,  and  lay  the 
brick  and  mortar,  are  generally  those  who  labor  for  their 
bread;  nor  is  it  probable  that  a  less  imperious  motive 
would  induce  the  effort.  iSTor  is  it  bodily  activity  alone 
that  is  excited  by  this  stimulus.  Hunger,  rather  than  any 
of  the  nine,  has  been  the  muse  of  some  of  the  best  poets. 

This  connection  of  the  appetites  with  industry,  which  is 
so  indispensable  to  force  of  character  and  to  all  good  hab- 
its, shows  that  they  were  intended  by  God  to  be  ministers 
of  human  virtue,  and  not  the  occasions  of  vice. 


THE  APPETITES.  89 

But  the  appetites  are  also  connected  with  the  affections. 
So  naturally  do  our  kind  feelings  rest  upon  those  who 
share  the  same  table  with  us  that  "  to  eat  bread  "  with  one, 
that  is,  to  refceive  or  furnish  hospitality,  has  been  regarded 
in  many  countries  as  a  pledge  of  kindness  and  good  faith. 
"  He,"  says  the  Scripture,  as  if  it  aggravated  the  treachery, 
—  "he  that  did  eat  bread  with  me  hath  lifted  up  his  heel 
against  me."  It  was  from  the  connection  of  the  appetites 
with  the  social  feelings  that  the  drinking  customs  of  soci- 
ety derived  much  of  their  power  and  also  of  their  danger. 
It  was  the  social  glass  that  led  young  men  of  generous 
affections  to  occasional  excess,  and  the  appetite  was  then 
cherished  and  justified  on  the  ground  of  indulging  the 
social  nature,  till  the  capacity  for  social  enjoyment  was 
diminished,  and  the  man  sunk  into  degrading  habits  of  sel- 
fish, solitary,  animal  gratification. 

It  is  from  this  natural  and  intended  connection  of  the 
affections  and  virtues  with  the  appetites  that  we  are  not 
degraded  by  them.  We  share  them,  indeed,  in  common 
with  the  brutes ;  but  they  so  underlie  our  higher  nature 
and  may  so  blend  with  it  as  to  become  the  occasions  of 
some  of  its  most  beautiful  manifestations,  and  when  con- 
fined within  the  bounds  of  reason  and  religion  are  the 
occasion  only  of  good.  The  man  who  eats  that  he  may 
live  and  improve  his  higher  faculties,  and  do  good,  is  a 
man.    But  the  man  who  lives  that  he  may  eat  is  a  brute. 

A  course  of  indulgence  of  the  appetites  has  been  called 
a  life  of  pleasure.  But  retribution  reaches  to  the  body, 
and  there  could  be  no  greater  misnomer.  Every  excess  is 
sure  to  be  punished.  Besides  the  penalties  of  immediate 
reaction  and  specific  disease,  by  the  law  of  habit  already 
noticed,  the   capacity  for  enjoyment  becomes  gi-adually 


90  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

less,  and  no  object  is  more  pitiable  than  a  man  who  is  be- 
ginning to  taste  the  dregs  of  such  a  life. 

At  no  point  do  the  dictates  of  virtue  and  of  an  enlight- 
ened self-love  more  clearly  coincide  than  in  the  regulation 
of  the  appetites.  The  proper  notion  of  temperance  with 
reference  to  them  is  not  an  abstinence  from  any  particular 
thing,  but  such  a  control  of  all  the  aj^petites  as  will  result 
in  the  greatest  power  and  activity  both  of  body  and  of 
mind,  and  as  shall  subject  them  most  fully  to  our  control. 
Anything  short  of  this  is  criminal,  and  infallibly  pernicious ; 
and  any  use  or  enjoyment  of  the  appetites  compatible  with 
this  may  be  allowed. 

From  the  above  account  it  is  most  plain  that  the  law  of 
the  appetites  is  to  be  found  in  their  end.  That  end  we 
have  the  capacity  to  see.  We  can  also  see  the  fitness  of 
the  appetites  for  its  accomplishment,  so  that  when  we 
yield  ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  an  unp'erverted  appe- 
tite we  are  still  governed  by  reason.  It  is  reason  commit- 
ting the  accomplishment  of  an  end  to  a  trustworthy  ser- 
vant, that  can  do  it  better  than  she.  Let  that  end  —  the 
end  indicated  by  the  constitution  of  the  appetites  in  their 
relative  positions  —  be  accomplished,  —  no  more,  no  less, — 
and  both  reason  and  conscience  are  satisfied. 

But  besides  the  natural  appetites,  there  are  those  termed 
artificial,  or,  more  properly,  unnatural,  as  that  for  intoxicat- 
ing drinks,  for  tobacco,  and  for  opium.  In  all  these  the 
principle  is  the  same.  An  unnatural  stimulus  is  given  to 
the  nerves,  followed  by  a  corresponding  depression,  and  an 
uneasiness  which  causes  a  desire  of  repetition,  and  which 
often  becomes  a  craving  so  importunate  as  to  overmaster 
and  control  every  other  principle  of  action. 

Between  these  artificial  appetites  and  those  that  are  nat- 
ural there  are  four  important  differences. 


ARTIFICIAL  APPETITES.  91 

The  first  is,  that  in  the  natural  appetite  the  craving  is  an 
origiual  part  of  the  constitution,  created  by  God  with  ref- 
erence to  an  end  intended  by  him.  In  the  artificial  appe- 
tite, the  craving  is  wholly  superinduced  by  man,  and  with 
reference  to  an  end  which  God  no  more  intended  than  he 
did  murder. 

The  second  diflference  is,  that  the  objects  of  the  artificial 
appetites  are  all  violent  poisons.  They  are  incapable  of 
assimilation  with  the  system.  Except  as  medicines  they 
can  contribute  nothing  to  its  health  or  well-being,  and 
taken  in  any  considerable  quantity  they  cause  death. 

The  third  difierence  is,  that  the  pleasure  connected  with 
the  artificial  appetites  is  purely  and  utterly  selfish.  It  has 
no  relation  to  the  ulterior  good  of  the  man  himself,  or  any 
other  being.  On  the  contrary,  it  lowers  the  tone  of  the 
system  and  the  capacity  for  good ;  whereas  the  pleasure 
connected  with  the  natural  appetites  has  relation  to  the 
vigor  which  wields  the  axe  and  guides  the  plough,  and 
even  to  the  highest  intellectual  exertion. 

The  fourth  difierence  is,  that  the  artificial  appetites  have 
a  tendency  to  increase.  As"  the  stimulus  is  continued,  the 
quantity  necessary  to  produce  the  desired  efitjct  becomes 
greater.  It  is  this  insidious  tendency,  this  "  facilis  descen- 
sus averni,"  that  has  brought  many  gifted  men  to  the 
verge  of  destruction  before  they  were  aware  of  it,  and  haa_ 
prevented  their  return.  The  natural  appetites  have  no 
such  tendency. 

Let  no  one,  therefore,  suppose  that  God  has  not  given 
a8  many  appetites  as  are  for  his  best  good,  or  that  he  shall 
be  a  gainer  on  the  whole  by  attempting  to  reap  where 
nature  did  not  sow. 

The  wretchedness  there  is  in  the  world  fi'om  the  abuse 
of  the  natural  appetites,  and  from  the  expense  and  tyranny 


92  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

of  the  artificial  ones,  is  so  great  that  the  pui-pose  of  God 
with  reference  to  this  part  of  the  constitution  is  worthy  of 
careful  study. 

We  now  pass  to  the  Desires. 

Of  these  the  appetites  are  not  only  the  condition,  but 
they  foreshadow  and  symbolize  them.  The  desires  are  to 
the  mind  what  the  appetites  are  to  the  body. 

Tlieir  negative  characteristics  are  that  they  do  not  take 
their  rise  from  the  body ;  that  they  are  not  periodical,  and 
that  they  do  not  cease  after  attaining  a  particular  object. 
Positively,  they  are  cravings  which  have  for  their  object  the 
well-being  of  the  mind,  as  the  appetites  have  for  theirs  the 
well-being  of  the  body.  They  act  in  the  first  place  impul- 
sively and  specifically  with  reference  to  particular  objects ; 
subsequently  they  are  adopted  by  the  reason,  and  through 
the  operation  of  that  and  the  generalizing  faculty,  their 
objects  come  to  be  designated  by  general  terms,  as  knowl- 
edge and  power. 

What  the  original  desires  are,  and  how  many,  philoso- 
phers have  not  been  agreed.  This  we  may  ascertain  as 
we  may  what  the  appetites  are.  The  ultimate  appeal  must 
be  to  consciousness ;  but  if  we  can  determine  beforehand 
or  by  observation  what  is  requisite  for  the  well-being  of 
the  body,  we  can  tell  what  the  appetites  will  be.  So  with 
the  desires.  If  we  can  ascertain  what  is  needed  for  the 
well-being  of  the  mind,  we  may  know  what  they  are 
Towards  those  things  we  may  be  sure  there  will  be  instinc- 
tive tendencies  or  impulses  which  reason  is  to  accept, 
direct,  and  limit,  but  which  will  not  wait  for  the  discovery 
by  her  of  their  necessities  before  they  act. 

The  desires,  like  the  appetites,  imply  appropriation,  a 
gathering  in,  a  use  and  assimilation  of  materials  by  our- 
selves.   They  are  related  to  the  aflTections,  and  are  for  the 


*tnE  DESIRES.  S3 

affectioDS  which  are  above  them,  and  which  imply  bestow- 
ment,  and  giving  out.  As  the  appropriations  by  the  appe- 
tites were  not  intended  to  be  selfish  or  for  their  own  sake, 
but  for  the  giving  forth  of  every  form  of  physical  and 
mental  activity,  so  the  appropriations  by  the  desires  were 
intended  to  furnish  the  material  and  groundwork  for  the 
activity  of  the  affections  and  the  will. 

What,  then,  would  be  needed  for  the  perfection  of  the 
mind  itself,  and  that  man  might  act  most  effectively  through 
his  affections  for  the  good  of  others  ?     He  would  need,  — 

1st.  His  own  continued  and  secure  existence.  He  would 
need  property,  that  is,  the  possession  of  those  things  by 
which  life  may  be  sustained.  He  would  need  it  both  as 
a  provision  for  himself,  and  as  a  condition  of  generosity  to 
others.  He  would  then  need  knowledge  for  his  guidance ; 
be  would  need  power  to  reach  the  ends  suggested  by  a 
regard  for  his  own  good  and  the  suggestions  of  the  affec- 
tions for  others;  and  he  would  need  the  good-will  and 
esteem  of  others  that  he  might  cooperate  with  them,  and 
they  with  him,  and  stand  in  such  a  relation  to  them  as  to 
be  able  to  do  them  good.  These  he  would  need;  they 
would  be  indispensable  to  his  completeness  in  himself,  and 
in  his  relations  to  others ;  and  for  each  of  these  he  has  a 
natural  and  original  desire. 

The  desires,  then,  which  we  shall  consider,  are,  — 

1.  The  Desire  of  Continued  Existence. 

2.  Of  Property. 

3.  Of  Knowledge. 

4.  Of  Power. 

5.  Of  Affection,  Good-will,  Esteem. 

Besides  these,  it  has  been  said  of  late,  and  almost  uni- 
versally, that  we  have  the  desire  of  happiness,  and  the 
desire  of  society. 


94  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

That  the  desire  of  happiness  cannot  be  placed  on  the 
same  footing  with  the  other  desires,  is  plain,  — 

1st.  Because  happiness  is  the  result  of  the  normal  activ- 
ity of  each  of  the  faculties.  We  know  it  only  as  such. 
But  a  desire,  whose  office  it  should  be  to  receive  the  pro- 
duct of  all  the  other  faculties,  would  differ  much  from  a 
simple  desire  that  produces  Piappiness.  In  other  cases  the 
desire  is  for  a  specific  thing,  and  when  that  is  met  liappi- 
ness  is  the  result;  but  if  we  suppose  an  original  desire  of 
happiness,  there  can  be  no  happiness  back  of  the  happiness 
desired,  to  be  its  re.mlt,  and  so  its  whole  constitution  must 
be  different  from  that  of  the  other  desires. 

2d.  It  does  not  seem  either  simple  or  philosophical  to 
make  a  desire  for  knowledge,  and  a  desire  for  the  happi- 
ness resulting  from  that,  each  an  original  and  simple  de- 
sire. It  would  be  more  plausible  to  suppose,  as  some  do, 
that  the  desire  for  happiness  is  the  only  original  desire, 
and  that  the  desire  of  knowledge,  like  that  for  books,  is 
wholly  secondary.  But  this  will  not  do,  because,  if  we 
had  had  no  original  desire  for  knowledge,  we  could  never 
have  begun  to  seek  it,  and  should  have  found  no  happiness 
in  its  pursuit. 

8d.  In  all  other  cases  the  desire  goes  directly  to  its  own 
object.  It  finds  that,  and. happiness  is  the  result.  But  no 
man  ever  sought,  or  can  seek,  directly  for  happiness ;  he 
must  have  something  else  as  his  direct  object,  and  find 
that  indirectly. 

4th.  As  each  desire  impels  directly  to  its  own  end,  and 
knows  of  nothing  else,  it  may,  in  a  measure,  be  its  own 
guide ;  but,  as  happiness  may  result  from  different  and 
often  incompatible  desires  and  faculties,  there  is  far  more 
need  of  a  higher  power  than  any  blind  impulsion  to  guide 
in  its  pursuit. 


fHE  DESIRE  OF  HAPPINESS.  95 

What,  then,  is  tlie  relation  of  this  to  the  other  desires  ? 
To  me  it  seems  to  be  the  same  as  that  of  consciousness  to 
the  several  specific  faculties  of  cognition.  Consciousness 
is  not  a  separate  faculty,  but  accompanies  and  pervades  all 
the  acts  of  each  faculty.  In  the  same  way  the  desire  of 
happiness  is  not  a  separate  and  specific  desire,  but  accom- 
panies and  pervades  each  act  of  such  desire.  As  good  is 
the  immediate  product  of  the  activity  of  our  faculties,  it 
must  be  given  in  the  original  act  of  consciousness.  Every 
such  act  involves  the  conception,  first,  of  being ;  second, 
of  activity,  since  consciousness  is  activity ;  and,  third,  if 
the  act  be  normal,  of  good  as  the  result.  But  good  thus 
known  must  be  desired,  otherwise  it  could  not  be  con- 
ceived of  as  good.  In  this  way  it  is  that  a  desire  of  good 
enters  into  every  specific  form  of  desire,  and  that,  as  con- 
sciousness is  the  generic  form  of  cognition,  so  the  desire  of 
good  or  of  happiness  is  the  generic  form  of  all  the  desires. 

For  the  existence  of  a  specific  desire  of  society  the 
authority  is  high.  That  society  is  the  natural  sphere  of 
man  there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  it  is  surprising  that  the 
hypothesis  of  Hobbes,  that  the  state  of  nature  is  a  state  of 
warfare,  should  have  been  deemed  worthy  of  a  labored 
refutation.  "  Man,"  it  has  been  well  said,  "  is  born  in  so- 
ciety, and  there  he  remains."  The  state  of  nature  is  a 
state  of  society. 

But,  while  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  man  was  formed 
for  society,  I  yet  esteem  it  rather  a  condition  of  his  being 
tlian  the  object  of  a  specific  desire.  He  has  desires  and 
r.ffcctions  the  exercise  of  which  implies  society,  and  it  is, 
r..i  it  seems  to  me,  the  direct  exercise  of  these,  and  not 
society  itself  apart  from  this  exercise,  that  he  desires. 
T.;!:v»  from  him  the  desire  of  esteem,  of  power,  of  loving 
and  being  beloved,  all  those  specific  desires,  and  affections, 


&6  LECTURES  ON  MORAt  SCiENClJ. 

and  sympathies,  which  are  mentioned  by  the  philosophers 
separately,  and  which  imply  society  for  their  exercise,  and 
the  residuum  that  would  be  left  of  a  desire  of  society, 
as  such,  would  be  little  or  nothing.  Observing  a  certain 
effect,  the  combined  effect  of  all  our  faculties,  they  seem 
to  have  contrived  a  new  faculty  to  account  for  it,  ex- 
tracting and  compounding  it  from  all  the  others.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  our  delight  in  society  arises  chiefly  from  the 
exercise  of  other  desires  and  affections  which  there  find 
tlieir  sphere,  and  if  any  shall  choose  to  say  that  there  is, 
besides  the  effect  resulting  from  the  combined  influence  of 
these,  an  instinct  or  desire  for  society,  I  am  content. 

Though  happiness  and  society  are  not  inaugurated  and 
guarded  by  a  particular  desire,  yet  the  design  of  God  in 
regard  to  them  is  even  more  clearly  and  strongly  indicated 
than  if  they  were.  To  me  these  seem  to  be,  the  one  like 
warmth,  and  the  other  like  the  atmosphere,  pervasive  and 
enfolding  conditions  of  our  activity,  and  hence  more  inti- 
mately associated  with  it,  and  more  fully  cared  for  than 
any  single  principle  of  action.  They  are  like  the  axioms 
in  mathematics  that  are  essential  at  every  step  in  the  rea- 
sonings, as  compared  with  the  definitions  and  hypotheses 
on  which  particular  demonstrations  depend. 

I  shall  close  this  lecture  with  some  remarks  on  the  first 
of  the  desires  mentioned,  —  that  of  Continued  Existence. 

This  is  often  mentioned  as  the  strongest  of  the  desires. 
We  say,  "  as  dear  as  life  itself"  Yet  it  yields  to  that  of 
reputation,  and  revenge,  and  sometimes  gives  way  before 
mere  weariness  and  ennui.  Nor  is  the  fact  that  there  are 
so  few  suicides  certain  evidence  of  the  power  of  this  de- 
sire, since  men  often  fear  death  greatly  who  desire  life 
feebly,  or  not  at  all. 

It  is  the  object  of  this  desire  to  guard  life  in  sudden 


•TRtJE  COITRAGE.  07 

emergencies,  and  to  ensure  for  it  our  deliberate  and 
rational  care ;  and  our  present  business  is  to  inquire  how 
far  we  should  be  governed  by  it. 

This  involves  the  question  respecting  a  true  courage, 
since  a  man  is  to  brave  danger  and  to  die  when  required 
by  that,  and  only  then.  Under  no  circumstances  is  a  man 
to  be  a  coward. 

It  is  the  grandest  characteristic  of  man  that  he  can  delib- 
erately look  death  in  the  face,  and  accept  it  rather  than  the 
alternative  of  spiritual  degradation.  On  the  earth  there 
has  been  no  nobler  spectacle  than  that  of  those  to  whom 
this  alternative  has  been  presented,  and  who  have  chosen 
to  die,  to  die  in  torture  and  in  the  midst  of  reproach. 
Required  to  renounce  their  integrity,  or  do  violence  to 
their  affections,  they  have  chosen  to  become  martyrs. 
To  die  thus  implies  the  conviction  of  an  inner  life  far 
higher  and  dearer'than  that  of  the  body,  which  no  weapon 
can  reach,  and  no  flame  scorch ;  of  a  liberty  which  no 
manacles  can  restrain ;  and  of  a  will  which  all  the  might 
of  nature  cannot  subdue ;  and  the  moment  in  which  mal- 
ice lifts  its  cry  of  seeming  triumph  over  the  destruction 
of  the  body  of  one  dying  <;hus,  is  the  moment  of  the 
gi-eatest  possible  triumph  of  fortitude  and  principle,  and 
of  liberty  in  its  highest  form.  That  man  is  capable  of 
such  persecution,  is  the  greatest  disgrace  of  our  nature ; 
that  he  is  capable  of  enduring  and  triumphing  over  it,  is 
its  greatest  honor.  One  such  death,  transcendent  and 
perfect,  the  world  lias  witnessed ;  it  can  never  witness 
another.  If  we  are  called  on  to  lay  down  our  lives  thus, 
we  are  to  do  it  as  best  we  may.  To  do  this  is  true  cour- 
age ;  not  to  do  it  is  cowardice.  In  doing  this  we  become 
mnrtyif?;  and  no  man  has  a  right  to  do  it,  except  as  a 
martyr  to  truth,  to  righteousness,  to  liberty,  or  to  humanity. 
9 


98  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

In  imitation  of  this,  but  in  striking  contrast  with  it,  is 
that  common-place  exposure  to  danger  and  death  which 
comes  from  recklessness,  and  vanity,  and  a  regard  to  the 
opinion  of  others.  There  can  be  no  nobleness  in  blind- 
folding the  eyes,  or  in  suffocating  the  natural  emotions. 
Rightly  viewed,  it  is  an  awful  thing  to  die.  It  becomes 
us  to  acknowledge  this ;  but  if  required  to  testify  to  any 
great  truth,  or  to  sustain  any  great  principle,  it  becomes  us 
to  have  such  a  conscience,  and  such  a  trust  in  God,  that  we 
may  die  without  fear,  or  even  with  welcome.  This  is  true 
courage,  and  anything  else  in  the  guise  of  this  is  either 
stupidity,  or  cowardice  and  hypocrisy. 

But  the  obligation  to  meet  death  with  firmness,  when 
called  to  it  by  truth  or  by  duty,  does  not  rest  solely  upon 
our  individual  interests  and  character;  the  interests  of 
mankind  are  involved.  Abstract  truths  and  general  prin- 
ciples often  lie  dormant  till  they  are  "awakened  into  life 
by  some  powerful  attestation.  The  attestation  which  the 
death  of  a  wise  and  good  man  gives  to  the  value  of  the 
principles  for  which  he  dies,  has  a  voice  that  is  startling  to 
humanity,  and  will  arouse  it  if  anything  can.  If  the  ex- 
isting generation  do  not  hear  it,  as  through  interest  or 
prejudice  they  may  not,  it  will  not  be  lost ;  it  will  be 
heard  in  after  times.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  blood 
of  the  martyrs  has  been  the  seed  of  the  church,  and  that 
the  names  of  Hampden  and  Sidney  have  been  the  watch- 
words of  liberty  wherever  the  English  tongue  has  been 
known.  When  such  men  die,  death,  in  whatever  form, 
does  not  come  to  them  as  to  common  men,  whispering  of 
terror  or  of  hope  for  them  alone,  but  — 

"  In  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 
The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be.*' 

However  strong,  therefore,  the  desire  of  life  may  be,  it 


DESIRE  01^  CONTINUED  EXISTENCE.  99 

must  yield  when  this  is  required  by  higher  principles  of 
action,  by  the  affections,  and  the  conscience.  Mankind 
justify  and  applaud  him  who  dies  for  his  kindred,  his  coun- 
try, his  race,  or  to  sustain  his  integrity.  They  disregard 
and  despise  him  who  dies,  or  exposes  himself  to  death, 
from  a  desire  of  applause,  or  from  the  fear  of  a  corrujit 
public  opinion. 

It  only  remains  to  notice  the  modes  in  which  the  inten- 
tions of  God,  as  indicated  by  this  part  of  our  constitution, 
are  plainly  set  at  nought.     These  are  chiefly  four. 

The  first  is,  by  any  vicious  indulgence  which  shortens 
life.  The  guilt  and  waste  of  life  from  this  cause  cannot  be 
measured. 

The  second  is  from  war.  We  need  not  inquire  here 
whether  men  may  expose  their  lives  in  war  according  to 
the  principles  already  stated.  That  they  may  not  on  lower 
principles,  is  certain ;  and  in  the  light  of  this  truth,  how 
dreadfully  have  the  purposes  of  God  in  regard  to  human 
life  been  disregarded  in  war!  So  has  it  been  in  all  wars 
of  ambition,  of  passion,  and  of  mere  interest.  The  fact 
that  mercenaries  have  been  so  readily  found,  who  would 
espouse  any  cause,  expose  themselves  to  any  danger,  and 
do  any  amount  of  slaughter  for  the  poor  pittance  of  a  sol- 
dier's pay,  is  among  the  saddest  indications  of  the  moral 
state  of  the  race. 

A  third  mode  in  which  the  purpose  of  God,  as  indicated 
by  this  desire,  is  set  aside,  is  by  suicide. 

As  this  is  a  crime  which  cannot  be  punished,  little  can 
be  done  to  prevent  it  except  to  point  out  and  remove  its 
causes.  These  are,  —  1st.  Insanity.  With  this  we  have 
notliing  to  do.  2d.  The  commission  of  crime  and  appre- 
licnded  exposure  and  disgrace.  3d.  Disappointment  in  the 
attainment  of  any  object  which  has  been  regarded  as  the 


100  Lectures  on  moral  science* 

chief  good.  4th.  Infidelity  when  carried  to  the  denial  of 
a  hereafter  or  of  human  accountability.  Not  that  infi- 
delity has  a  direct  tendency  to  induce  suicide,  but  that, 
when  men  are  tempted  to  it,  it  removes  all  obstacles.  A 
thoroughgoing  and  unflinching  infidel  would  feel  himself 
at  perfect  liberty  to  choose  nonentity  rather  than  life  if  he 
should  prefer  it.  Hence  the  levity  with  which  this  crime 
is  spoken  of  by  infidels,  as  Hume,  who  said  that  it  was 
but  the  turning  a  little  blood  out  of  one  channel  into 
another.  It  is  only  by  the  removal  of  the  causes  now 
mentioned  that  we  may  expect  that  the  frequency  of  this 
crime  will  be  diminished. 

A  fourth  mode  in  which  life  is  wantonly  shortened  is  by 
duelling. 

In  this  we  have  a  striking  instance  of  the  power  of 
custom  after  the  opinion  in  which  the  particular  custom 
originated  is  entirely  changed.  Originally  regarded  as  a 
species  of  judicial  trial  in  which  there  was  an  appeal  to 
God,  a  refusal  to  fight  came  in  time  to  be  considered  a 
confession  not  simply  of  cowardice,  but  of  cowardice  on 
account  of  guilt.  Then  it  was  that  the  tyranny  of  custom 
and  of  public  opinion  commenced ;  and  now,  though  the 
idea  of  an  appeal  to  God,  or  of  any  adjudication  according 
to  merit,  is  utterly  exploded,  though  the  laws  are  against 
it,  and  it  is  known  to  be  morally  wrong,  though  the  force 
of  public  opinion  is  in  some  regions  entirely  removed,  and 
everywhere  very  much  lightened,  yet  the  custom  still  re- 
tains its  hold,  and  the  law  of  God  is  made  void  by  the 
"  traditions "  of  men  in  high  places.  This,  too,  is  done 
when  all  the  circumstances  which  once  gave  the  combat 
eclat  and  dignity  are  entirely  reversed.  It  was  once  sanc- 
tioned by  law,  and  witnessed  by  multitudes  who  applauded 
the  knightly  bearing  of  the  combatants.    Now,  those  who 


DUELUNG  -  MORAL  COWARDICE;     ,  >\    J  > '  >JLV1' 

fight  shrink  away  to  some  place  where  the  law  may  be 
evaded,  the  combat  is  witnessed  only  by  the  seconds  and 
the  surgeon,  and  there  is  no  display  of  manly  vigor,  or  of 
any  other  skill  than  that  of  a  highwayman.  The  parties 
simply  take  pistols  and  shoot  at  each  other.  It  was  once 
an  evidence  of  courage,  and  compatible  with  a  sense  of 
duty ;  now,  whatever  may  be  said  of  mere  animal  courage, 
it  shows  a  pitiable  want  of  moral  courage,  and  is  opposed 
to  all  the  dictates  of  morality,  of  humanity,  and  of  reli- 
gion. Though  founded  in  mistaken  notions,  it  yet  had,  at 
its  commencement,  something  noble  about  it,  but  like  the 
Scylla  of  Virgil,  whose  head  was  human,  it  tapei-s  off,  as  it 
comes  down  to  us,  into  hideous  and  unmitigated  deform- 
ity. In  its  present  position,  it  is  difficult  to  saj  tvhoUucr 
this  custom  is  more  wicked  or  ridiculous. 


LECTURE    V. 

DE8IKE  OF  Pr.OPERTT.  —  AVARICE.  —  DESIRE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  —  DESIRE  OF 
POWER.— INFLUENCE.  — EMULATION.  — DESIRE  OF  ESTEEM.  —  DESIRE  OF 
GLORY. 

After  the  desire  of  life,  which  we  have  already  consid" 
ered,  that  of  property  was  mentioned. 

As  life  is  the  condition  of  all  the  desires,  so  also  is  the 
possession  of  that  which  is  necessary  to  sustain  life.  In 
common  with  the  others,  this  desire  has  its  root  in  the 
tendency  of  all  life  to  appropriate  to  itself  whatever  is 
necessary  to  its  own  perfection  and  manifestation.  So  it 
is  with  the  appetites  as  they  are  related  to  the  perfection 
and  power  of  the  body.  There  is  a  point  where  they  are 
identical,  and  whence  they  branch  off  in  search  of  differ- 
ent objects  necessary  for  such  perfection  and  power,  and 
so  become  different  specific  appetites.  So,  also,  it  is  with 
the  desires.  There  is  a  point  where  they,  too,  seem  iden- 
tical in  their  relation  to  the  perfection  and  manifestation 
of  mind,  and  whence  they  branch  off  in  the  directions 
mentioned  as  constituting  the  several  specific  desires.  If, 
therefore,  the  ownership  of  something,  possession,  prop- 
erty, be  essential  to  such  perfection  and  manifestation, 
then  this  general  tendency  will  be  in  that  direction,  and 
will  become  a  specific  desire. 

But  ownership,  or  property,  is  thus  necessary.  It  is 
through  this  that  we  have  security  for  ourselves,  and  a 
chief  means  of  manifesting  our  individuality  to   others, 

102 


THE  DESIRE  OF  PEOPERTY.  103 

What  is  not  our  own  we  have  no  right  to.  use.  We  have 
a  right  to  use  the  fruit  that  grows  wild  only  because,  when 
we  pluck  it,  it  becomes  ours.  And,  as  this  sense  of  prop- 
erty is  the  condition  of  our  using  anything  for  ourselves, 
so  is  it  for  our  giving  anything  to  others. 

We  may,  it  is  true,  conceive  of  a  state  in  which  the 
whole  enjoyment  of  man,  and  perhaps  an  adequate  one, 
should  arise  from  what  could  not,  or  need  not  be  appro- 
priated, as  the  air  and  the  sunlight ;  but,  in  liis  present 
state,  if  he  had  no  material  thing  which  he  could  use  as 
his  own,  and  none  which  he  could  give  to  others,  he  not 
only  could  have  no  security,  but  would  lack  scope  for  the 
activity  of  some  of  those  essential  faculties  by  which  he  is 
made  in  the  image  of  God.  If  God  had  no  ownership,  he 
would  not  be  God,  and  if  man  had  none,  involving  domin- 
ion, he  would  not  be  in  his  image. 

That  the  desire  of  property  in  the  sense  and  to  the 
extent  above  indicated  is  a  natural  desire,  we  can  scarcely 
doubt,  if,  in  addition  to  the  considerations  just  adduced, 
we  notice  how  early  and  distinctly  it  is  manifested  by  chil- 
dren ;  how  it  stimulates  industry ;  and  how  essential  prop- 
erty is  to  the  very  existence  of  society.  Doubtless,  the 
natural  desires  often  interpenetrate,  support,  and  modify 
each  other,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  more  reason  for  refer- 
ring this  desire,  as  some  have  done,  to  that  of  power,  than 
for  referring  the  desire  of  knowledge  in  the  same  way, 
since  knowledge  has  often  been  said  to  he  power.  Holding 
such  relations  as  property  does,  we  might  expect  that  God 
would  indicate  his  will  by  giving  a  specific  desire,  and  that 
he  would  make  that  desire,  as  he  has  all  the  others,  the 
basis  of  a  right.  If  God  has  given  us  a  desire  for  prop- 
erty, then,  within  limits  to  be  fixed  by  other  considera- 
tions, Me  have  a  right  to  property,  and  when  we  look  at 


104  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

the  extent  and  validity  of  the  right  of  property,  we  can 
hardly  suppose  it  to  be  founded  on  anything  but  a  natural 
desire. 

This  desire,  then,  being,  in  the  true  and  original  sense  of 
that  word,  natural,  cannot  be  wrong.  Nor  is  it  too  strong 
in  itself,  for  there  is  not  too  much  honest  industry  or  self- 
denying  frugality.  The  doctrine  holds  here,  that  has  al- 
ready been  stated  in  regard  to  those  principles  of  action 
which  relate  to  the  material  interests  of  the  individual  and 
of  society,  that  the  stronger  they  are,  provided  they  be  kept 
properly  subordinated,  the  richer  and  better  substratum  of 
individual  character  and  of  society  do  they  form.  Those 
who  have  done  the  most  for  our  public  institutions,  and 
done  it  most  nobly,  have  been  men  with  a  strong  desire  of 
property,  who  knew  the  worth  of  what  they  gave  ;  gene- 
rally men  who  had  accumulated  it  by  their  own  industry, 
but  who  gave,  nevertheless,  cheerfully  and  gladly,  in  view 
of  great  interests  to  be  promoted,  and  of  the  subordinate 
place  which  this  desire  holds  as  the  purveyor  of  God,  and 
the  appointed  servant  of  principles  higher  than  itself  If 
an  alabaster-box  of  precious  ointment  is  to  be  opened,  the 
perfume  of  which  is  to  fill  society,  the  box  must  first  be 
filled.  Only  as  we  recognize  the  legitimacy  of  this  princi- 
2}le  can  giving  have  its  true  merit  and  dignity,  or  indeed 
any  merit  or  dignity  at  all.  As  men  now  are,  it  is  far  bet- 
ter that  they  should  be  employed  in  accumulating  prop- 
erty honestly,  to  be  spent  reasonably,  if  not  nobly,  than 
that  there  should  be  encouraged  any  sentimentalism  about 
the  worthlessness  of  property,  or  any  tendency  to  a  merely 
contemplative  and  quietistic  life,  which  has  so  often  been 
either  the  result  or  the  cause  of  inefficiency  and  idleness. 

But  while  the  legitimacy  of  this  desire  is  not  to  be  ques- 


DESIRE  OP  PROPERTY.  105 

tioned,  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  it  is  specially  liable  to 
excess  and  perversion. 

The  appetites  have  a  material  limit,  but,  like  all  tho  de- 
sires, this  has  none,  and,  unchecked,  it  grows,  and  becomes 
insatiate  by  its  own  activity.  It  is  like  an  elastic  receiver 
which  could  not  be  stretched  beyond  its  capacity,  but 
which  would  grasp  the  more  tightly  its  contents  the  fuller 
it  should  be  made.  To  the  strength  of  natural  desire 
there  is  added  the  power  of  habit;  and  then,  in  our  state 
of  society  especially,  there  is  everything  to  foster  it. 
With  no  law  of  entail,  with  a  form  of  government  that 
stimulates  every  faculty,  with  unprecedented  openings  for 
enterprise  from  the  newness  of  the  country,  with  no  order 
of  nobility,  and,  with  the  exception  of  high  talent  and 
transient  office,  with  nothing  but  wealth  to  give  position 
and  distinction,  it  is  not  strange  that  it  should  be  sought 
with  peculiar  eagerness  and  unscrupulousness.  More  than 
any  other  it  is  the  national  passion,  and,  what  with  dis- 
honest and  injurious  modes  in  the  getting,  and  folly  and 
luxui-y  in  the  using,  there  is  danger  through  it  of  national 
ruin.  It  is  not  merely  on  the  protection  of  the  right  of 
property,  essential  as  that  is,  that  the  material  prosperity 
of  a  nation  depends,  but  also  on  the  prevalent  modes  of 
ge-.ting  and  using  it.  Gambling,  lotteries,  theft,  fraud,  ai-e 
modes  of  gaining  wealth,  but  are  mere  depredations  on 
Bociety ;  pandering  to  hurtful  and  vicious  appetites  is  still 
worse,  and  when  these  are  jjrevalent,  implying  as  they  do 
modes  of  spending  money  corresponding  with  the  modes 
of  getting,  there  can  be  no  prosperity. 

The  perversions  of  this  desire  appear  in  cov^auuNuess 
and  avarice.  .  These  have  in  fact  the  same  elements;  but 
covetousness,  even  to  unscrupulousness,  in  getting  prop- 
erty, is  not  incompatible  with  profusion  in  spending  it; 


106  LECTURES  ON   MORAL   SCIENCE. 

while  avarice  refers  more  particularly  to  the  grasp  with 
which  it  is  held.  This  grasp  may  be  so  strong  as  not  only 
not  to  be  relaxed  at  the  call  of  public  spirit  and  natural 
affection,  but  even  for  the  supply  of  the  most  pressing  per- 
sonal wants. 

It  is  here  that  we  find,  and  are  called  upon  to  account 
for,  that  strange  phenomenon  in  our  nature,  —  a  miser.  A 
miser  is  one  in  whom  this  desire  is  so  strong  as  to  defeat 
all  the  ends  for  which  it  was  given,  one  who  suffers  the 
very  wretchedness  which  the  desire  was  given  to  prevent, 
through  an  excess  of  the  desire  given  to  prevent  it. 

As  it  is  money  that  is  especially  sought  by  the  miser,  it 
has  been  usual  to  say  that  as  that  is  the  representative  of 
value,  and  stands  for  everything  which  it  can  command,  we 
transfer,  through  the  association  of  ideas,  the  regard  we 
have  for  those  things  to  that  which  represents  and  can  com- 
mand them,  and  so  come  to  attach  a  high  intrinsic  value  to 
that  which  has  little  value  in  itself,  and  none  at  all  so  long 
as  it  is  hoarded.  That  something  of  this  occurs  almost 
universally,  cannot  be  doubted,  and  if  we  combine  it  with 
unusual  outward  temptations,  or  with  peculiar  constitu- 
tional tendencies,  or  both,  it  may  be  suificient  to  account 
for  many  cases  of  miserliness.  Doubtless  there  are  those 
to  whom  this  is  naturally  a  besetting  sin.  But  there  are 
cases  for  which  it  does  not  account ;  especially  those  in 
which  persons  who  have  been  jDrodigals  in  youth  have  sub- 
sequently become  misers.  This  has  often  been  the  case. 
It  was  so  with  the  noted  miser  mentioned  by  Foster  in  his 
Essay  on  Decision  of  Character.  But  of  all  men  we  should 
suppose  a  prodigal  would  be  the  last  to  associate  money 
with  value.  Brown,  therefore,  founds  avarice,  not  so 
much  on  feelings  of  pleasure  at  seeing  constant  additions 
to  a  heap  that  is  never  to  be  used,  as  on  the  permanence  of 


THEORY  OF  AVARICE.  107 

money  compared  with  the  transient  pleasures  of  the  prod- 
igal, and  on  feelings  of  regret  at  having  spent  that  which 
can  never  return.  If  a  man  purchase  a  house,  though  his 
money  be  gone,  yet  the  house  remains,  and  being  con- 
stantly useful  to  him,  he  looks  back  upon  the  parting  with 
his  money  without  regret.  But  if  he  had  expended  the 
same  sum  for  a  palace  of  ice,  though  he  might  be  pleased 
for  a  time  with  its  glitter,  yet,  when  it  had  melted  away, 
he  could  not  foil  to  reflect  how  much  that  was  valuable  he 
might  purchase  with  his  money  if  he  then  had  it,  and  look 
back  upon  his  parting  with  it  with  regret. 

Let,  then,  a  young  man  spend  his  money  foolishly  till 
he  becomes  embarrassed,  or  perhaps  in  utter  want;  let 
him  be  stung  at  the  same  time  by  what  is,  or  what  he  con- 
ceives to  be  ingratitude,  and  every  instance  of  such  expen- 
diture will  haunt  him,  and  a  permanent  and  deep  feeling- 
of  regret  will  be  the  consequence.  If  he  again  acquire 
money,  he  will  regard  it  not  so  much  as  the  representative 
of  any  particular  value,  as  a  guard  against  the  perplexity 
and  trouble  into  which  he  had  previously  fallen.  As  he 
formerly  reflected  afterwards  how  many  things  he  might 
have  purchased,  so  now  his  money  seems  to  him,  not  the 
representative  of  the  value  of  that  particular  thing  which 
he  may  wish  to  purchase,  but  of  all  those  things  collect- 
ively which  might  be  obtained  by  it.  As  it  was  from 
parting  with  his  money  that  his  regret  formerly  arose,  so 
now,  when  he  would  part  with  any,  whether  the  sum  be 
great  or  small,  and  quite  as  much  if  small  if  it  was  by 
small  sums  that  he  lost  his  money,  the  same  feeling  pre- 
sents itself  and  debars  him,  till  at  length  penurious  and 
miserly  habits  are  formed. 

This  theory  I  deem  correct,  and  bring  it  forward  for  the 
practical  moral  consequencs  which  it  involves.    It  is  often 


108  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

thought  an  indication  of  spirit  in  young  men  to  have  a  cer- 
tain profusion  and  recklessness  in  their  way  of  spending 
money.  They  think  it  essential  to  their  position  to  spend 
upon  trifles  of  fashion,  and  the  demands  of  what  is  called 
good-fellowship,  but  what  is  too  often  fellowship  in  folly 
and  vice,  sums  which  neither  they  nor  their  friends  can 
well  afford.  If,  then,  instead  of  being  considered  a  mark 
of  spirit,  this  profusion  were  regarded  by  the  young  man 
and  his  friends,  as  it  truly  is,  as  a  mark  of  want  of  judg- 
ment and  of  genuine  independence,  and  if  in  the  prodigal- 
ity of  to-day  they  could  behold  the  parsimony  of  future 
years,  much  evil  would  be  averted. 

In  our  cities  and  public  institutions  there  are  many 
young  men  who  depend  on  a  hard-working  father,  or  a 
poor  and  widowed  mother,  or  on  self-denying  sisters,  who 
are  liable  to  be  drawn  into  associations  with  those  whose 
means  of  expense  are  above  their  own,  to  incur  obligations 
of  what  they  call  honor,  and  to  engulf,  if  not  in  vice,  yet 
in  what  is  purely  conventional  and  useless,  the  scanty  earn- 
ings of  their  home.  It  is  pitiable  to  see  those  who  do 
thus,  greedy  of  money  whenever  they  can  get  it,  evading 
small  bills,  and  those  of  poor  people ;  disappointing,  alien- 
ating, perhaps  ruining  those  who  love  them ;  losing  their 
own  self-respect,  and  incurring  the  contempt  of  those  who 
care  little  or  nothing  for  them.  From  such  the  public  has 
nothing  to  hope.  But  from  one  who  will  deny  himselfj 
and  rely  for  his  position  upon  industry,  integrity,  and 
transparency  of  character,  and  who  can  respect  himself  in 
honest  poverty,  and  look  down  upon  meanness  anywhere, 
if  he  shall  succeed,  the  public  may  expect  much.  He  will 
have  an  open  hand  for  Somebody. 

In  general,  if  we  have  been  accustomed  from  our  youth 
to  spend  money  so  that  we  have  not  regretted  its  loss,  if 


THE  DESIRE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  109 

we  have  given  it  for  the  necessaries  and  the  conveniences 
of  life,  and  especially  for  the  gratification  of  the  benevo- 
lent affections,  we  may  expect  to  continue  to  part  with 
money,  —  that  is,  if  we  have  it,  —  if  not  nobly,  yet  use- 
fully, and  without  regret.  But  if  we  have  spent  our 
money  aimlessly,  or  with  that  mixture  of  meanness  and 
profusion  which  those  often  exhibit  who  spend  money  only 
for  selfish  pleasures,  we  must  beware  lest  the  reckless 
expenditure  of  twenty  become  the  avarice  of  sixty ;  lest 
the  young  man,  flattered  and  praised  by  sycophants  for  his 
generosity,  become   in   age  a  niggard   and   contemptible 


From  the  desire  of  property  we  pass  to  that  of  knowl- 
edge. 

By  the  first  we  appropriate  to  ourselves  whatever  may 
be  useful  to  us  that  is  material ;  by  the  second,  so  far  as 
that  is  possible,  whatever  may  be  useful  that  pertains  to 
the  spiritual  world. 

That  this  is  a  natural  desire  need  not  be  proved,  be- 
cause it  is  not  disputed.  This  was  known  to  Solomon. 
"  Through  desire,"  says  he,  "  a  man  having  separated  him- 
self, seeketh  and  intermeddleth  with  all  wisdom."  Like 
him  we  give  our  hearts  "  to  seek  and  search  out  by  wis- 
dom concerning  all  things  that  are  done  under  heaven." 
It  may  be  "  a  sore  travail,"  but  "  this,"  in  giving  this  de- 
sire, "hath  God  given  to  the  sons  of  men  to  be  exercised 
therewith."  The  desire  has  for  its  object  the  only  element 
in  which  man  can  walk  without  stumbling.  It  is  as  the 
light  by  which  we  see,  and  so  is  indispensable  to  the  intel- 
ligent exercise  of  any  of  the  faculties. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  all  knowledge  is 
gained  under  the  stimulus  of  this  desire.    The  desire  is 

10 


110  LECTURES   ON   MORAL  S(^IENCE. 

found  existing  in  the  light  of  consciousness  and  of  the 
priinitive  ideas  and  truths  of  reason.  These,  which  have 
been  said  to  be  — 

"  The  light  of  all  our  seeing','* 

are  essentially  the  same  in  all.  They  are  involved  in  the 
exercise  of  all  our  faculties,  while  this  desire  of  knowledge, 
or  the  principle  of  curiosity  as  it  has  been  called,  may 
exist  in  different  degrees,  and  with  reference  to  different 
objects. 

So  far  as  the  desire  of  knowledge  is  impulsive  and  invol- 
untary it  has  no  moral  character.  In  this  respect  it  is  on 
the  same  footing  with  all  the  impulsive  powers.  They 
respect  objects  which  are  indifferent  in  themselves,  that 
may  be  used  for  either  good  or  evil,  and-moral  character  is 
manifested  as  we  reject  or  adopt  and  control  these  impul- 
sions. An  angel  and  a  fiend  may  have  equal  knowledge. 
Their  character  is  shown  by  its  use. 

Of  this  desire  the  direct  and  proper  stimulus  is  knowl- 
edge itself^  and  for  itself.  To  the  mind  that  can  feel  it 
there  is  in  knowledge  a  power  to  charm  as  there  is  in 
music.  It  is  a  high  attribute  of  man  through  which  he 
can  find  in  the  works  of  God,  and  in  the  relations  which 
he  has  established,  an  excellence  so  attractive  as  to  be  in 
itself  a  sufficient  motive  to  their  contemplation  and  study. 
In  this  is  the  root  of  the  true  enthusiasm  for  science.  It 
is  among  those  who  have  this  that  we  find  the  mathema- 
ticians, who,  like  Archimedes,  can  spend  days  and  nights 
in  tlie  contemplation  of  abstract  theorems ;  the  sages,  who, 
like  Socrates,  can  remain  absorbed  in  thought  four-and- 
twenty  hours  without  changing  their  position ;  and  with 
out  much  of  this  no  man  can  be  expected  to  distinguish 
himself  greatly  in  the  walks  of  science. 


THE  DESIRE  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  Ill 

But  besides  this  primary  motive,  the  desire  of  knowl- 
edge finds  a  natural  and  legitimate  support  in  the  esteem 
in  which  those  are  generally  held  who  are  distinguished  by 
their  attainments;  in  the  direct  and  obvious  utility  of 
many  branches  of  knowledge,  and,  from  the  wonderful  and 
oft^n  unsuspected  connection  of  its  difterent  branches,  in 
the  incidental  and  possible  utility  of  all  knowledge. 

But  even  with  such  support,  the  desire  of  knowledge 
has  often  too  little  relative  strength  in  the  contest  with 
indolence.  In  order  to  induce  study,  the  best  of  men 
have  therefore  thought  it  necessary  to  admit  and  to  sanc- 
tion in  our  public  institutions  the  for  inferior  and  some- 
times pernicious  motive  of  emulation,  but  they  have  done 
it  reluctantly,  and"  only  as  polygamy  was  allowed  to  the 
Israelites,  "  because  of  the  hardness  of  their  hearts."  It  is 
to  be  hoped  that  the  time  may  come  when  the  adjustment 
of  forces  shall  be  different,  and  there  shall  be  found  in 
knowledge  and  in  its  necessary  and  legitimate  results  suffi- 
cient motive  for  its  pursuit. 

Like  the  appetites,  the  desire  for  knowledge  may  become 
artificial,  and  take  directions  that  are  capricious.  It  may 
also  be  in  excess.  It  is  always  relatively  so  when  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  has  no  respect  to  the  attainment 
of  mental  power,  and  the  use  to  be  made  of  it.  Knowl- 
edge is  the  food  of  the  mind.  And  as  food  may  overload 
and  enfeeble  the  body,  and  is  to  be  received  only  as  there 
is  a  capacity  of  digestion  and  assimilation,  and  with  ulti- 
mate reference  to  action,  so  knowledge  may  overload  and 
enfeeble  the  mind,  and  should  be  received  only  as  it  can 
be  reflected  on  and  arranged,  and  so  incorporated  into  our 
mental  being  as  to  give  us  power  for  action.  Here,  as 
elsewliere,  the  receiving  is  to  have  reference  to  a  giving, 
but  not  wholly.    If  the  thing  received  were  not  valuable. 


112  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

in   itself,  there  would  be  neither  worth  in  the  gift  nof 
merit,  in  the  giving. 

We  now  proceed  to  the  desire  of  power.  The  idea  of 
power  is  inseparable  from  that  of  will.  The  very  act  of 
willing,  or,  as  Hamilton  calls  it,  conation,  gives  the  concep- 
tion ;  but  this  is  fully  realized  only  in  the  passing  of  the 
conation  into  its  results.  Personal  power  is  in  the  idea  of 
a  will ;  but  the  idea  of  power  is  imj^lied,  and  would  be 
given  also  in  the  spontaneous  exercises  of  any  of  the  fac- 
ulties. A  faculty  and  a  power  are  the  same  thing.  It 
may  even  be  said  that  in  all  receptivity  there  is  power. 
There  is  the  power  of  receiving;  but  in  the  sense  now 
contemplated  this  would  not  be  a  power.  In  all  power 
exerted  there  is  an  origination  of  activity. 

The  idea  of  power,  then,  enters  into  our  very  concep- 
tion of  ourselves.  We  cannot  exist  except  as  powers. 
The  consciousness  of  being,  and  of  power,  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  two  things.  We  can  neither  know  nor  rejoice 
in  our  being  nor  its  enlargement  except  through  a  con- 
sciousness of  power,  and  of  the  enlargement  of  power. 
Doubtless  there  is  a  high  pleasure  as  we  make  experiments 
upon  our  faculties  corporeal  and  mental,  and  ascertain  the 
effects  we  can  originate  through  them,  and  the  more  strik- 
ing the  effects  the  greater  the  pleasure ;  but  in  that  we  are 
merely  finding  ourselves  out,  and  the  desire  of  power  no 
more  respects,  as  has  commonly  been  supposed,  that  power 
which  enters  into  the  conception  of  ourselves,  than  the 
desire  of  knowledge  includes  the  lig^ht  of  consciousness 
and  the  intuitions  of  reason.  The  very  desire  of  power  is 
itself  a  power,  and  it  is  absurd  to  say  that  a  desire  desires 
itself.  In  examining  man  we  must  take  him  as  possessed 
t)f  all  that  makes  him  man.     We  find  him  to  be  a  powei 


DESIRE  OP  POWER  AND  OP  LIBERTY.  llg 

and  also  to  possess  the  desire  of  power ;  but,  as  the  desire 
of  knowledge  implies  a  primitive  knowledge  which  the 
desire  does  not  respect,  so  the  desire  of  power  implies  a 
primitive  power  which  that  deiSire  does  not  respect.  We 
must  either  adopt  this  mode  of  viewing  the  subject,  or 
resolve  all  our  desires  into  that  of  power,  since  there  is  in 
all  of  them  an  exertion  of  power  and  an  enjoyment  pro- 
portioned to  the  power  exerted. 

But  all  this  is  very  different  from  that  control  over  na- 
ture and  men  which  we  may  gain  by  our  own  skill  and 
exertion,  "which  may  be  put  forth  in  different  directions,  or 
not  at  all,  and  the  desire  of  which  may  exist  in  different 
degrees.  It  is  this,  and  chiefly  the  desire  of  controlling 
our  fellow-creatures,  that  we  mean  by  the  desire  of  power. 

Having  made  this  distinction,  it  may  be  well  to  indicate, 
at  this  point,  the  difference  between  the  desire  of  power 
and  that  of  liberty,  as  the  latter  is  often  made  a  part  of 
the  former.  Liberty  has  no  particular  connection  with  the 
desire  of  power  as  just  defined,  but  has  respect  to  the  put- 
ting forth,  within  their  legitimate  sphere,  of  any  of  those 
faculties  by  which  we  are  men.  It  is  the  condition  of  the 
manifestation  of  our  being  in  any  direction  we  may  choose; 
but  I  did  not  class  it  with  the  specific  desires  for  the  same 
reason  that  I  omitted  the  desire  of  society  and  of  happiness. 
A  free  bird  does  not  desire  freedom.  It  was  hatched  free. 
Freedom  is  the  general  condition  of  all  its  activity.  So 
men  are  born  free,  and  God  has  given  no  natural  desire  to 
meet  a  condition  of  things  induced  by  wrong.  It  is,  there- 
fore, no  specific  desire,  but  the  whole  nature,  that  rebels 
against  unjust  restraint;  and  freedom  can  be  crushed  out 
only  by  the  degradation  of  the  whole  man. 

Hence  liberty,  society,  and  happiness,  the  first  two  being 
general  conditions  of  our  activity,  and  the  last  a  general 
10* 


114  LECTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

result  of  it,  are  more  intimate  to  us,  more  essential  and 
sacred,  than  the  object  of  any  specific  desire. 

But  to  return.  The  power  of  man  is  from  his  will,  and 
the  extent  of  it  he  learns  Vholly  by  experience.  If  the 
movement  of  mountains  had  followed  his  volition  from 
the  first  as  uniformly  as  the  movement  of  his  limbs,  it 
would  have  seemed  to  him,  and  would  have  been,  no  more 
strange.  But  experience  shows  him  that  his  direct  power 
extends  only  to  the  voluntary  muscles  of  the  body  and  to 
the  voluntary  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  that  even  here  his 
power  is  not  absolute.  Probably  no  man  ever  gained  the 
full  control  either  over  his  muscles  or  over  the  faculties  of 
his  mind.  To  give  such  control  is  one  great  object  of  edu- 
cation. In  this  is  discipline.  Here  is  the  first  sphere  of 
power,  the  only  one  that  is  direct.  Here  lies  the  greatness 
of  him  who  ruleth  his  own  spirit. 

But  between  this  power,  which,  though  direct,  is  so  nar- 
row in  its  range,  and  that  indirect  power  which  man  may 
exert  over  the  elements  and  over  nations,  the  contrast  is 
marvellous.  It  is  this  latter  power  that  men  chiefly  seek, 
and  all  mechanism,  all  practical  sciences,  all  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, are  but  means  for  its  exercise.  They  are  means, 
more  or  less  fiicile,  for  connecting  the  will  of  man  with 
remote  results ;  and  nothing  more  indicates  the  superiority 
of  man's  nature  than  the  extent  to  which  this  may  be 
done.  An  animal  can  do  nothing  at  a  distance  from  itself 
in  space,  and  nothing  worthy  of  mention,  except  in  the 
present,  in  time ;  but  the  will  of  a  single  man  may  find 
expression  in  a  few  words  that  shall  set  in  motion  armies 
and  navies,  and  the  echo  of  what  was  at  first  but  a  few 
feeble  vibrations  of  the  atmosphere  shall  come  back  from 
distant  continents  in  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  groans  of 
the  dying.    The  thought  and  feeling  of  one  man  m^y  find 


THE  DESIRE  OP  POWER.  115 

fjxpression  in  words  that  shall  be  repeated  through  all 
time,  and  work  like  leaven  in  transforming  society. 

The  control  of  man  over  nature  can  never  be  arbitrary. 
"  Nature  is  conquered  only  "by  obeying  her  laws."  But 
while  nature  cannot  be  broken  down  by  force,  the  will  of 
man  may  be.  Hence,  in  governing  his  fellows,  instead  of 
making,  as  he  should,  the  method  he  is  compelled  to  fol- 
low in  nature  his  model,  and  governing  men  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  their  rational  and  responsible  nature,  man 
has  employed  arbitrary  power.  It  is  in  the  tendency  to 
this  that  the  danger  from  this  desire  is  found.  To  a  cor- 
rupted will  the  taste  of  it  is  like  that  of  blood  to  the  tiger. 
Under  its  influence  man  sets  himself  up  as  independent 
of  authority,  rejects  moral  restraint,  and  in-  passing  to  his 
selfish  ends  disregards  the  rights  and  the  miseries  of  men. 
The  larger  part  of  history  is  but  a  record  of  the  deeds  of 
men  under  the  influence  of  this  desire  thus  perverted. 

But  whatever  the  perversions  and  abuses  of  this  desire 
may  be,  there  can  be  no  more  doubt  of  its  legitimacy  than 
of  that  of  knowledge,  since  the  great  use  of  knowledge  is 
to  be  a  condition  for  the  right  exercise  of  power.  If  the 
results  of  its  perversion  are  terrific,  it  only  shows  the  uses 
to  which  it  may  be  put  when  rightly  directed.  The  ele- 
ment that  rages  in  the  conflagration  is  the  same  that 
enables  man  to  mould  to  his  will  the  most  refractory  sub- 
stances in  nature,  and  which  may  be  made  so  much  the 
more  energetic  in  its  usefulness,  as,  when  uncontrolled,  it 
had  been  destructive  and  awful.  It  is  the  same  atmos- 
phere that,  in  its  condensed  energies,  forms  the  tornado, 
that  wafts  the  ship,  and  kisses  the  leaf  of  the  violet. 
Every  creature  of  God  is  good ;  but  it  is  to  be  used  not 
only  "  with  thanksgiving,"  but  in  accordance  with  his 
kiws. 


116  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

It  is  this  arbitrary  power  that  kings,  and  especially 
tyrants,  have  sought  and  possessed.  In  the  early  stages 
of  society  it  was  natural  that  such  a  power  should  be 
attained,  and,  once  attained,  that  it  should  seek  to  perpetu- 
ate itself.  But  men  have  found  the  trust  too  great.  They 
are,  therefore,  seeking  to  divide  the  power,  and,  by  putting 
it  into  the  hands  of  the  people  themselves,  to  bring  inter- 
est in  to  the  aid  of  principle.  It  is  creditable  to  riian 
that  he  can  maintain  a  republic,  but  it  would  be  more 
so  if  monarchy  could  be  well  administered.  If  democracy 
trusts  the  people  to  a  certain  extent,  it  yet  proceeds  upon 
a  distrust  of  man.  By  adopting  as  its  maxim  that  "  eternal 
vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty,"  it  declares  that  man  has 
no  moderation  in  the  desire,  and  is  not  to  be  trusted  in 
the  use  of  power. 

But  besides  arbitrary  power  backed  by  force,  there  is 
another  which  we  call  influence,  not  less  effectual,  and 
often  not  less  extensive,  which  is  exercised,  not  by  coer- 
cion, but  in  compatibility  with  the  laws  of  mind  and  the 
freedom  of  others.  This  is  the  power  of  the  wise,  of  the 
eloquent,  of  the  good  man ;  and  as  it  always  implies  the 
possession  of  qualities  respectable  in  themselves,  and  gen- 
erally beneficial,  it  is  to  be  sought  by  every  honorable 
means. 

Power  and  influence  are  not  incompatible,  but,  as  con- 
trasted, they  differ  in  several  respects.  Power  interferes 
with  freedom ;  influence  does  not.  Power  stands  above 
those  whom  it  controls,  and  issues  its  commands;  influ- 
ence elicits  and  directs  the  individual  energies  of  those 
upon  whom  it  bears,  and  thus  enlarges  the  sphere  of  their 
agency.  Power  keeps  itself  aloof  as  an  object  of  fear  and 
admiration ;  influence  mingles  in  with  the  agencies  which 
itself  has  set  in  motion,  and  is  often  so  lost  in  them  as  to 


fiMULATtOl^.  117 

be  forgotten,  as  the  kindling  spark  is  forgotten  when  the 
flames  begin  to  spread.  Power,  especially  if  it  be  hered- 
itary, depends  upon  accident;  influence  upon  personal 
qualities.  Fewer  is  maintained"  by  pageantry,  by  chicanery, 
by  brute  force ;  influence  by  the  cultivation  of  those  com- 
manding qualities  from  which  it  first  arose. 

While,  therefore,  we  reject,  as  the  object  of  desire,  all 
arbitrary  power,  we  cannot  too  earnestly  desire  those 
means  of  influence  by  which  we  may  lead  othera  freely  to 
their  own  good.   i^^T^'^t^^^ 

Emulation,  or  the  desire  of  superiority,  is  classed  by 
Stewart  and  others  among  the  original  desires.  By  others 
it  is  regarded  as  a  modification  of  the  desire  of  power. 
So  I  regard  it.  At  least  I  hardly  know  where  else  to 
place  it,  though  the  desire  of  esteem  often  seems  to  be 
involved  in  it,  quite  as  much  as  that  of  power.  If  the 
contests  in  which  emulation  is  excited  were  not  public,  and 
the  results  were  never  to  be  known,  probably  the  emula- 
tion would  be  but  slight.  My  reason  for  not  classing  it 
with  the  oiiginal  desires  will  be  found  in  the  principle 
already  stated.  I  do  not  see  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
the  perfection  of  the  mind. 

Of  this  as  a  principle  of  action  much  has  been  said,  and 
moralists  are  not  agreed  respecting  it.  This  may  be,  in 
part,  from  some  ambiguity  in  the  term.  There  can  be  no 
emulation  unless  a  man  pursues  an  object  in  common  with 
others.  Here  other  principles  are  brought  in,  and  we 
need  to  discriminate. 

There  is  in  many  animals  an  instinctive  feeling  that  pro- 
duces in  them  the  effects  of  emulation.  It  may  be  seen  in 
two  horses  drawing  together,  or  attempting  to  pass  each 
other.  This  feeling  has  in  it  nothing  malignant.  It  is 
probably  a  modification  of  their  social  instincts. 


118  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCtENCE. 

In  man  there  may  be  something  of  the  same  instinct, 
joined  with  the  higher  influence  of  sympathy.  Of  sympa- 
thy the  influence  is  so  great  that  Adam  Smith  made  it  the 
foundation  of  his  moral  system.  If  we  see*others  laugh, 
we  are  disposed  to  laugh  also ;  if  they  are  in  grief,  our 
feelings  and  countenance  conform  in  some  degree  to  their 
emotions ;  and  whatever  feeling  may  be  vividly  expressed, 
if  it  does  not  shock  our  sense  of  propriety,  we  have  a  ten- 
dency to  enter  into  and  sympathize  with.  This  is  natural 
and  right.  If,  now,  in  a  class  of  young  men  studying  to- 
gether, and  doing  as  little  as  possible,  we  suppose  that  one 
of  them  should  wake  up  to  a  love  of  knowledge,  and  to  a 
sense  of  his  responsibility,  and  enter  independently  upon 
a  course  of  work,  it  would  be  strange,  since  we  sympathize 
with  almost  every  other  feeling,  if  something  of  his  spirit 
should  not  be  transferred  to  others.  So  far  from  being 
wrong  in  them  to  feel  it,  it  would  imply  a  baseness  if  they 
did  not,  and  if  this  feeling  should  pervade  the  class,  it 
would  be  a  blessing  to  all.  It  would  be  simply  a  manifes 
tation  of  our  social  nature  in  one  of  its  higher  and  bettei 
forms.  That  there  is  in  it  nothing  of  malignity  or  per- 
sonal feeling  is  clear,  because  the  same  feeling  may  be 
excited  by  reading  the  lives  of  those  who  are  dead.  What 
was  it  that  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  Julius  Csesar, 
when,  at  the  age  of  thirty-two,  he  saw  the  picture  of  Alex- 
ander the  Great?  What  is  it  that  causes  the  bosom  of  the 
young  missionary  to  burn  when  he  reads  the  lives  of  Brain- 
erd  and  of  Martyn  ?  And  if  we  may  be  •  tlnis  stimulated 
by  those  who  have  gone  before  us,  how  much  more  by 
those  who  walk  with  us.  It  is  in  this  effect  and  propriety 
of  sympathy  that  we  find  not  only  the  benefit  of  social 
study  and  work,  but  the  obligation  of  setting  a  good  ex- 
ample.    If  any  deny  the  propriety  of  being  stimulated,  not 


EMULATION.  lid 

merely  in  view  of  the  thing  to  be  done,  but  also  in  view 
of  what  others  have  done,  they  destroy  the  obligation  to 
set  a  good  example.  This  principle  is  recognized  in  the 
Bible.  "Consider,"  says  the  apostle,  not  simply  the  excel- 
lence of  the  end,  but  "  one  another,  to  provoke  —  yes  joro- 
Dohe  —  unto  love  and  good  works."  "I  speak  not  this," 
says  he,  "  by  commandment,  but  by  occasion  of  the  for- 
wardness of  othei-s."  He  says,  too,  by  way  of  commen- 
dation, and  as  what  he  rejoiced  in,  "And  your  zeal  hath 
provoked  very  many"  —  not  to  do  more  than  others,  but 
what  they  could. 

Thus,  when  we  pui*sue  an  object  in  common  with  oth- 
ers, our  motives  are  mixed.  We  have  some  love  of  the 
thing  itself,  we  have  some  sympathy,  some  desire  of  the 
esteem  connected  with  distinguished  success,  and  we  may 
also  have  a  desire  of  superiority  for  its  own  sake.  It  is 
this  last  only  that  is  properly  emulation.  So  it  is  defined 
by  Butler,  and  Reid,  and  Stewart,  and  Whewell ;  but  in 
supposing  this  to  be  an  original  part  of  our  nature,  and  in 
their  discussions  upon  it,  I  cannot  believe  that  they  wholly 
separated  it  from  the  elements  above  mentioned. 

That  this  love  of  superiority,  taken  by  itself,  is  either 
a  natural  or  a  justifiable  principle,  I  cannot  suppose.  It 
does  not  contemplate  our  doing  what  we  can,  which  is  all 
that  is  required  of  us,  but  more  than  another,  and  involves 
our  unhappiness  if  we  do  not.  It  is  nowhere  commanded 
in  tlie  Bible  that  we  should  be  above  othera.  To  desire 
to  be  above  him. simply  for  the  love  of  it,  is  incompatible 
with  loving  our  neighbor  as  ourselves.  It  is  a  pleasure 
gained  at  his  expense ;  but  there  is  no  legitimate  pleasure 
that  is  necessarily  at  the  expense  of  another.  God  has 
not  so  constituted  his  creatures.  It  is  closely,  though  per- 
haps not  necessarily,  associated  with  pride  on  the  one  hand 


120  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

and  envy  on  the  other.  It  cannot  blend  with  that  love 
which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law.  To  suppose  one  person 
to  be  endeavoring  to  love  God  more  than  another  is  pre- 
posterous. 

It  is  supposed  by  some  that  emulation  is  forbidden  in  the 
Scriptures,  because  "  emulations  "  are  classed  by  the  apos- 
tle Paul  with  "  wrath,  strife,  envyings,  murder,"  etc.  But 
in  the  Scriptures  language  is  employed  with  the  same  lati- 
tude as  in  common  life.  The  term  is  found  in  them  but 
twice,  and  in  the  other  instance  is  used  by  the  same  apos- 
tle as  that  which  he  was  desirous  of  producing.  "  If,"  says 
he,  "  by  any  means  I  might  provoke  to  *  emulation '  them 
which  are  my  flesh,  and  might  save  some  of  them."  There 
is,  therefore,  an  emulation  to  be  commended  as  well  as  one 
to  be  condemned;  and,  doubtless,  men  often  dispute  on 
this  subject,  who,  if  they  would  be  careful  to  understand 
each  other,  would  find  themselves  perfectly  agreed. 

We  have  now  considered,  in  its  various  forms,  the  desire 
of  power.  The  vanity  of  those  pursuits  to  which  men  are 
impelled  by  it,  when  in  excess,  is  a  common  topic  with 
moralists.  Doubtless,  the  objects  of  it  are  less  valuable 
when  attained  than  they  appear  in  the  distance.  The  ele- 
vation is  apparently  smooth  and  inviting,  but  the  way  to  it 
is  hazardous,  and  when  reached  it  is  often  found  barren 
and  comfortless.  That  those  who  enter  upon  this  pursuit 
should  be  deceived  is  almost  a  necessity.  By  men  who  are 
in  power,  and  have  wealth,  while  they  seem  to  have  every- 
thing at  command,  their  care,  their  weakness,  their  misery, 
are  carefully  concealed.  They  often  spend  more  thought 
and  labor  to  appear  to  be  happy  than  to  be  so.  Than  our 
judgments  respecting  the  happiness  of  others  nothing  can 
be  more  uncertain.  The  evils  that  we  do  not  see  we  read- 
ily suppose  not  to  exist,  and  often  envy  those  who  are  far 


VANITt  OF  WEALTM  AND  POWER.  12l 

more  wretched  than  ourselves.  The  impression  of  pain  is 
much  more  vivid  than  that  of  pleasure,  and  a  man  appar- 
ently happy  may  have  his  life  embittered  in  a  thousand 
ways  which  we  do  not  suspect. 

But,  laying  aside  the  evils  common  to  all  men,  power 
and  wealth  have  cares  and  troubles  peculiar  to  themselves. 

"The  needy  traveller,  serene  and  gay, 
Walks  the  wild  heath  and  sings  his  toil  away ; 
Does  envy  bid  thee  crush  the  upbraiding  joy  ? 
Increase  his  riches,  and  his  x>eace  destroy. 
Now  fears  In  dire  vicissitude  invade, 
The  rustling  brake  alarms,  and  quivering  shade, 
Nor  light  nor  darkness  brings  his  pain  relief,— 
One  shows  the  plunder,  and  one  hides  the  thief." 

"  For  heaven's  sake  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings  ; 
How  some  have  been  deposed,  some  slain  in  war. 
Some  poisoned  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  killed  — 
All  murdered,  — for  within  the  hollow  crown 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king 
Keeps  Death  his  court,  and  there  the  Antic  siti, 
Scoffing  his  state,  and  grinning  at  his  pomp, 
Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene 
To  monarchize,  be  feared,  and  kill  with  looks, 
Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, 
As  if  this  flesh  which  walls  about  our  life 
Were  brass  impregnable  ;  and  honored  thus, 
Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 
Bores  through  his  castle- wall  —  and  —  farewell  king. 
Cover  your  heads,  and  mock  not  flesh  and  blood 
With  Boiemn  reverence." 

If  these  and  similar  evils  of  wealth  and  power  are  more 
than  compensated  by  peculiar  advantages,  the  balance  in 
their  favor  is  but  slight.     What  is  most  to  be  desired  and 
11 


122  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

most  to  be  dreaded  in  life  is  common  to  all  men.  The 
light  of  heaven,  the  air,  the  earth,  the  heritage  of  the 
senses,  the  play  of  the  affections,  the  treasures  of  a  good 
conscience,  may  be  jDossessed  by  all.  From  the  loss  of 
friends,  the  encroachments  of  disease,  the  disorder  of  the 
passions,  the  forebodings  caused  by  sin  of  an  awful  future, 
and  from  death,  none  are  exempt.  Where,  then,  there  is 
so  much  in  common,  the  difference  of  enjoyment  that  mere 
wealth  or  power  can  give  is  so  small  that  if  it  must  cost 
much  struggle  it  will  generally  be  found  that  the  "  play  is 
not  worth  the  candle,"  that  we  have  sacrificed  ease  and 
independence  to  imaginary  advantages.  4i/t*^^ 

It  only  remains  to  speak  of  tlie  desire  of  esteem. 

For  this  the  other  desires  are,  in  a  measure,  the  condi- 
tion, since  esteem  is  most  fully  reached  through  the  use 
we  make  of  property,  knowledge,  and  power.  It  has  ref- 
erence not  only  to  our  own  happiness,  but  to  our  coopera- 
tion with  others,  and  is  an  indispensable  condition  of  the 
social  results  intended  by  God.  It  is  less  stirring  than  the 
desire  of  power,  and  often  requires  us  to  forbear  action  as 
well  as  to  act.  With  the  desire  of  arbitrary  power  it  is 
incompatible.  He  who  would  employ  the  means  requisite 
to  gain  that,  and  would  use  it  when  gained,  must  forfeit 
esteem.  Napoleon  is  reported  to  have  said  of  his  brother 
Joseph  that  he  was  too  good  a  man  to  be  a  great  man. 

That  this  is  a  natural  desire,  is  not  now  questioned.  It 
appears  in  children  before  they  are  able  to  speak,  and  with 
many  is  stronger  than  any  other,  even  than  that  of  life 
itself  or  of  a  good  conscience.  Men  will  sacrifice  life  foi 
the  good  opinion  of  others,  and  will  lie  that  they  may  not 
be  thought  liars.  Its  opposite,  scorn,  contempt,  ridicule, 
are  among  the  things  we  most  dread,  and  it  requires  thf 
sternest  principle  and  the  greatest  independence  of  judg 


*HE  DESIRE  OF  ESTEElf.  123 

ment  to  stand  before  them.  To  do  this  is  a  higher  form  of 
heroism  than  to  stand  before  the  cannon's  mouth.  Few 
will  not  remember  the  impressions  from  first  reading  Mil- 
ton's description  of  the  faithful  angel  with  whom  — 

"  Nor  number  nor  example  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind, 
Though  single.    From  amidst  them  forth  he  passed 
Long  way  through  hostile  scorn,  which  he  sustained 
Superior,  nor  of  violence  feared  aught ; 
And  with  retorted  scorn  his  back  he  turned 
On  those  proud  towers  to  swift  destruction  doomed." 

From  the  legitimate  influence  of  this  desire  the  benefits 
are  equal  to  its  strength.  The  danger  also  is  in  the  same 
proportion.  This  arises  from  the  want  of  coincidence  be- 
tween the  desire  and  the  conscience  in  othei*s  and  in  our- 
selves, and  will  be  in  two  directions. 

In  the  first  place,  we  may  be  desirous  of  doing  right,  but 
be  tempted  to  violate  our  conscience  in  order  to  please 
others.  This  we  are  never  to  do,  either  by  evasion  or 
compliance.  Those  who  do  this  are  a  kind  of  inverted 
hypocrites,  seeming  worse  than  they  are.  In  matters  of 
indifference  we  are  to  be  ready  to  comply  with  the  inclina- 
tions, and  even  the  prejudices  of  others,  but  if  we  violate 
our  conscience  we  not  only  incur  guilt,  but  are  generally 
despised  by  the  very  persons  whose  good  opinion  we  seek. 
Besides,  it  is  not  to  the  good  opinion  of  men  only  that 
we  should  have  respect.  Many  things  that  are  highly  es- 
teemed among  men  are  abomination  in  the  siglit  of  God. 
This  oflen  causes  a  fearful  conflict,  but  there  must  be  no 
faltering. 

In  the  second  place,  we  may  suppose  others  to  be  pleased 
with  good  qualities,  and  be  tempted  to  make  a  pretence  of 
those  we  do  not  possess,  thus  violating  our  conscience  by 


124  LECTURES   ON  MORAL   SCIENCI5. 

acting  a  lie.  This  takes  two  forms.  If  admiration  be 
sought,  it  will  be  affectation  ;  if  confidence  and  friendship, 
hypocrisy.  In  both  we  act  a  lie,  but  the  one  is  a  ridicu- 
lous lie  chiefly  hurtful  to  ourselves,  while  the  other  is  a  lie 
of  the  darkest  hue.  Affectation  and  hypocrisy !  To  how 
much  light  satire  and  spleen,  to  how  much  deep  distrust 
and  dark  misanthropy,  have  they  given  rise !  How  have 
they  given  to  human  life,  in  which  such  momentous  inter- 
ests are  involved,  the  appearance  of  a  masquerade  and  a 
farce ! 

Has  any  one,  then,  principle?  Let  him  abide  by  it. 
Would  any  one  seem  to  be  anything?  Let  him  he  that 
thing.  This  is  the  freest  and  safest  way,  and  quite  as 
easy  as  to  preserve  a  state  of  forced  and  dangerous  con- 
cealment. Regarding  these  two  cautions,  we  need  not 
fear  being  too  much  influenced  by  a  regard  to  the  good 
opinion  of  those  around  us. 

The  esteem  spoken  of  hitherto  is  that  of  those  whom 
we  know,  and  with  whom  we  have  intercourse.  But  we 
also  desire  the  good  opinion  of  those  who  are  remote  from 
us  in  space  and  in  time,  whom  we  never  expect  to  see  or 
to  have  intercourse  with.  We  desire  fame,  and,  tvhat  is 
the  highest  form  of  it,  glory. 

By  some  this  form  of  the  desire  of  esteem  has  been 
ranked  as  a  separate  desire,  but  without  reason.  By  others 
it  has  been  greatly  ridiculed,  also  without  reason,  since  it 
is  a  natural  form  of  the  desire,  and  one  justified  by  the 
Scriptures.  "The  righteous,"  they  say,  "shall  be  had  in 
everlasting  remembrance;"  and  Christians  are  those  wlio 
seek  for  '•'-glory  and  honor,"  as  well  as  for  "  immortality." 

Of  glory  as  it  is  commonly  conceived.  Cousin  has  given 
the  best  account  I  have  seen.  That  I  propose  to  give  in 
substance,  and  then  make  some  remarks  upon  it. 


GLOBY  AND  REPUTATION.  125 

And  first,  we  are  to  separate  glory  from  notoriety.  The 
passions  and  feelings  of  one  man  are  common  to  all,  and 
mankind  are  always  aroused  by  any  vivid  and  startling 
exhibitions  of  their  common  nature  in  any  of  its  elements 
or  forms.  If  this  exhibition  be  of  the  darker  and  fiend- 
like passions,  they  will  utter  a  cry  of  execration  which  is 
at  once  notoriety  and  infamy. 

We  must  also  distinguish  glory  from  reputation.  This 
implies  something  praiseworthy  to  a  certain  extent,  but 
may  be  gained  by  almost  any  one  who  pleases.  Mankind, 
from  education,  taste,  prejudice,  arc  divided  into  parties, 
sects,  coteries,  the  members  of  which  are  valued,  not  for 
their  common  humanity,  but  for  the  elements  of  difter 
ence  by  which  that  party  or  sect  may  happen  to  be  dis- 
tinguished. This  is  their  common  point  of  sympathy,  and 
the  man  who  embodies  most  fully,  and  expresses  most 
strongly,  the  peculiarities  of  the  party,  will  have  reputa- 
tion, will  be  the  great  man  of  the  party.  But  the  very 
cause  of  his  reputation  cuts  him  off  from  sympathy  with 
the  race,  and  he  must  pass  into  oblivion.  Such  are  the 
party  men  of  the  day,  who  flourish  because  they  are  party 
men,  and  for  that  reason,  so  far  as  they  are  party  men, 
must  fade.  Such  are  the  zealots  and  sectarians,  whether 
in  politics  or  religion,  who  are  distinguished  by  anything 
which  is  not  connected  with  the  great  interests  of  truth 
and  of  duty.  The  possession,  in  an  uncommon  degree,  of 
any  quality,  as  wit,  humor,  memory,  will  confer  reputation. 
It  may  be  gained  by  contrivance  and  trick,  by  collusion 
and  bargaining. 

But  with  glory  it  is  not  so.  It  has  been  said  already 
that  the  elements  of  humanity  are  common  to  all,  and  that 
it  always  recognizes  and  responds  to  any  vivid  portrayal  of 
itself.    We  are  all  conscious  of  indefinite  workings  of  our 


126  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

minds,  of  undefined  and  shapeless  feelings,  and  when  these 
are  brought  out  into  perfect  expression  by  the  touch  of 
genius  we  arfe  delighted.  We  admire,  and  are  grateful  to 
the  man  who  can  give  us  new  aspects  either  of  nature  or 
of  ourselves.  It  is  the  glory  of  all  great  poets  and  philos- 
ophers, of  those  who  represent,  and  of  those  who  analyze 
nature  and  man,  that  in  whatever  age  or  country  their 
works  may  be  found  by  man  sufficiently  cultivated  to 
understand  them,  they  meet  with  a  recognition  and  a  re- 
sponse. This  master  minds  alone  can  accomplisli.  Chance 
has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Artifice  and  pretence  are  futile 
here. 

In  the  same  way  military  glory  arises  from  the  relation 
of  those  who  gain  it  to  the  permanent  interests  and  uni- 
versal feelings  of  man.  What  gives  interest  to  a  battle  is 
not  tliat  it  is  a  theatre  where  brute  force  contends,  but  one 
where  different  interests  and  principles  are  arrayed  against 
each  other.  It  has  often  seemed  to  depend  upon  the  fate 
of  a  single  battle  whether  liberty  or  despotism,  civilization 
or  barbarism,  should  be  prevalent  in  the  Avorld.  When 
the  rights  and  destinies  of  men  are  thus  at  stake,  he  who 
is  most  perfectly  under  the  control  of  the  master  idea  that 
animates  all,  and  most  fully  represents  it,  naturally  be- 
comes the  leader.  It  is  not  in  him  as  an  individual  that 
we  are  interested,  it  is  in  the  principles  of  which  he  is  the 
representative,  and  of  which  his  acts  are  the  manifesta- 
tions. If  by  exertion  and  sacrifice  he  cause  those  princi- 
ples to  prevail,  we  feel  that  he  is  the  benefactor  of  man- 
kind, that  he  is  our  benefactor,  and  the  cry  of  admiration 
and  gratitude  which  mankind  utter  towards  such  a  man  is 
glory. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  by  producing  some  great  result  that 
glory  can  be  obtained.     To  receive  glory  from  mankind 


THE  DESIRE  OF  GLORY.  127 

we  must  put  ourselves  in  relation  to  them,  must  affect 
their  destinies,  must  make  some  stiiking  exhibition  of  tal- 
ent, or  of  those  emotions  and  passions  that  are  had  in  ad- 
miration among  men.  The  man  who  can  do  this  may  be  a 
fortunate  man,  but  lie  must  be  a  great  man. 

Of  this  account  of  glory,  in  which  we  find  the  rationale 
of  modern  hero-worship,  I  remark, —  1st.  That  as  a  motive 
of  action  it  can  apply  to  but  few.  Few,  comparatively, 
can,  by  any  possible  exaggeration  of  self-esteem,  suppose 
they  can  produce  results  that  shall  put  them  in  relation 
with  the  mass  of  mankind.  2d.  That  if  this  glory  could 
be  a  motive  to  many,  it  would  be  attainable  by  only  a 
few,  and  so  must  lead  to  disappointment.  Mankind  are 
80  much  engrossed  in  their  own  concerns  that  there  can 
exist  but  a  certain  moderate  amount  of  admiration  at  the 
same  time.  The  young  aspirant  for  fame,  when  he  has 
written  or  done  something  which  he  thinks  extraordinary, 
is  sui-prised  and  vexed  on  looking  around  and  finding 
every  man  minding  his  own  business.  3d.  The  opportu- 
nity for  acquiring  this  glory  often  depends  on  causes  that 
are  beyond  the  control  of  man.  At  this  day  "Washington 
could  not  reproduce  himself.  4th.  This  glory  depends  on 
success,  which  is  not  proportioned  to  desert.  Mankind 
judge  by  success.  In  the  race  for  fame  misfortune  is  a 
crime  which  they  never  forgive.  5th.  The  admiration  of 
mankind  is  often  given  to  qualities  that  do  not  deserve 
it,  and  withheld  from  those  that  do.  It  is  not,  therefore, 
always  a  safe  guide  to  our  conduct,  or  a  certain  criterion 
of  goodness,  without  which  there  can  be  no  true  glory. 

Can,  then,  this  be  the  glory  spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures? 
Or  is  it  all  an  illusion  ?  Neither.  Our  constitution  does 
not  deceive  us.  Its  tendencies  need  guidance,  but  not 
eradication.    This  part  of  it  is  a  striking  indication  of  the 


128  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

greatness  of  our  nature,  and  of  its  capacity  of  being  put 
into  relation  with  vast  numbers,  and  with  great  interests. 
The  approbation  of  God,  and  of  those  who  judge  in  ac- 
cordance with  iSra,  is  no  unsuitable  motive  for  any.  It  is 
such  an  one  as  an  apostle  thought  worthy  of  being  pre- 
Bented.  After  enumerating  a  long  list  of  the  worthies  of 
former  times,  he  represents  them  as  resting  from  their  own 
conflict,  and  watching  the  progress  of  those  who  have  suc- 
ceeded them.  "  Seeing,  therefore,"  says  he,  "  we  are  com- 
passed about  by  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  run 
with  patience  the  race  set  before  us."  What  we  need, 
then,  is  to  illuminate  the  desire  of  glory  by  the  revelations 
of  Christianity.  Regarding  ourselves,  not  merely  as  citi- 
zens of  this  world,  but  of  the  universe,  and  knowing  that 
God  is  over  all,  and  that  there  is  somewhere  a  vast  assem- 
bly of  the  good  to  whom  our  conduct  either  now  is  or 
shall  be  known,  we  may  give  to  this  principle  of  action 
free  scope. 

Such  is  the  theatre  on  which  we  are  to  contend  for  the 
true  glory  and  honor,  and  we  are  to  do  it  in  the  only  way 
in  which  success  is  possible,  "  by  a  patient  continuance  in 
well-doing."  In  this  race  the  success  of  one  does  not  pre- 
vent that  of  another.  All  may  enter  the  lists,  and  all  may 
gain  the  prize. 


LECTURE    VI. 

THE  ArriiCTIONS.— NATURAL  AND  MORAL. —BENEVOLENT.  — DEFBNSIVB 
AND  PUNITIVE.  — ORIGIN  OF  MALEVOLENT  AFFECTIONS.— FORGIVENESS. 
—  HOW  SUBJECT  TO  WILL.  —  THE  INTELLECT.  —  LOVE  OF  TRUTH. 

In  the  last  lecture  we  tinished  the  considenition  of 
what  are  usually  termed  the  desires.  These  have  no 
moral  character.  But  desire  is  not  excluded  from  the 
sphere  of  morals.  It  will  go  with  us  not  only  as  an  ele- 
ment of  the  afiections,  but  in  its  own  proper  form ;  for 
there  are  really  both  natural  and  moral  desires,  as  well  as 
natural  and  moral  aifections. 

The  desires  we  have  considered  imply  no  previous  exer- 
cise of  the  moral  nature,  and  have  for  their  object  things 
without  us ;  the  moral  desires  imply  a  previous  exercise 
of  the  moral  nature,  and  have  for  their  object  our  own 
moral  states.  A  paramount  desire  for  virtue  is  a  virtuous 
desire,  and  a  t?imilar  desire  for  holiness  is  a  holy  desire. 
The  object  of  the  one  class  of  desires  is  that  we  may  have 
something,  of  the  otlier,  that  we  may  be  something.  In 
either  case,  however,  the  desires  respect  not  merely  the 
well-being  of  the  individual,  but  his  capacity  to  minister  to 
others  through  ihe  aftections ;  and  it  is  to  the  considera- 
tion of  these  that  we  now  pass. 

As  the  appetites  have  for  their  end  a  peifect  body,  and 
the  desires  a  perfect  mind,  —  perfect  up  to  that  point,  and 
as  a  condition  for  somcthiug  higher,  —  so  the  affections, 
though  ultimate  to  the  individual,  have,  as  a  further  end, 

120 


130  LECTUliES   ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

a  perfect  society.  They  are  that  part  of  the  constitution 
of  man  by  which  he  is  so  put  in  relation  with  his  fellows 
that  society  becomes  possible.  ^ 

And  here  we  find  the  first  difference  between  the  affec- 
tions and  the  desires.  The  object  of  the  desires  is  things; 
the  object  of  the  affections  is  sentient  beings,  chiefly  those 
that  are  rational  and  moral. 

The  affections  differ  from  the  desires,  also,  because  they 
are  disinterested.  The  desires  receive  and  appropriate 
their  objects  to  themselves.  Their  whole  business  is 
appropriation,  whereas  the  affections  flow  from  us.  We 
bestow  them  and  they  appropriate  nothing.  There  can 
be  no  interested  affection. 

A  third  difference  is,  that  the  affections  are  more  com- 
plex. Affection  is  desire,  and  something  more.  It  is 
impossible  to  have  an  affection  for  any  one  without  having 
involved  in  it,  and  a  part  of  it,  a  desire  for  his  well-being. 
The  affection  itself,  as  distinguished  from  this  desire,  can- 
not be  defined,  and  can  be  conceived  only  by  being  felt. 
It  is  among  the  ultimate  and  highest  forms  in  which  our 
humanity  expresses  itself. 

But  in  analyzing  the  affections  we  are  not  to  destroy 
them.  This  Brown  has  done.  He  makes  no  such  class 
as  the  affections.  The  specific  feeling  of  love,  for  instance, 
he  classes  with  immediate  emotions,  and  our  wish  for  the 
happiness  of  those  we  love,  with  the  desires.  iBut  this  is 
like  treating  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  separately,  and  then 
denying  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  water.  Water,  which 
is  one  thing,  is  neither  oxygen  nor  hydrogen,  but  the  two 
united ;  and  pity,  which  is  also  one  thing,  is  neither  a  vivid 
emotion  in  view  of  distress,  nor  a  desire  to  relieve  it,  but 
th(i  two  united  ;  and  neither  can  be  regarded  practically 
in  any  other  way. 


THE  AFFECTIONS.  131 

But  we  must  notice  here  a  peculiarity  of  that  desire 
which  is  an  element  in  love.  As  it  is  our  own  desire,  its 
gratification  must  be  a  source  of  happiness  to  us.  As  it 
is  a  desire  for  the  happiness  of  others,  it  must  lead  us  to 
promote  that,  and  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  thus  pro- 
mote the  happiness  of  others  without  promoting  our  OAvn. 
Hence,  some  question  the  possibility  of  disinterested  benev- 
olence. We  desire,  they  say,  the  happiness  of  others  for  the 
sake  of  our  own.  It  is  true  that  we  are  made  haj^py  in 
making  them  so,  and  an  admirable  provision  for  mutual  and 
extended  happiness  it  is ;  it  is  also  true  that  we  may  ex- 
ercise and  cultivate  this  desire,  or  rather  the  affection  of 
which  it  is  a  part,  as  we  may  any  other,  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  it  will  thus  make  us  hajDpy ;  still  the  desire  is  for 
the  happiness  of  others,  and  the  moment  it  ceases  to  be 
that,  —  that  disinterestedly,  —  the  affection  itself  is  gone, 
and  with  it  the  very  source  of  our  happiness.  A  desire 
for  our  own  happiness  cannot  be  an  element  of  affection, 
and  when,  for  the  sake  of  that,  we  pursue  towards  others 
such  a  course  as  affection  would  prompt,  the  whole  source 
and  character  of  our  happiness,  if  we  gain  any,  is  gone. 
It  may  be  from  self-love  and  selfishness,  but  the  pure  hap- 
piness of  affection  it  cannot  be.  The  gold  is  become  dim, 
or  rather  dross,  and  the  most  fine  gold  is  changed. 

The  affections,  regarded  as  a  whole,  further  differ  from 
the  desires  in  being,  as  has  been  said,  ultimate  for  man 
himself.  They  refer  to  society;  but  there  is  nothing 
within  the  man  that  is  higher  than  they  to  which  they 
minister.  So  far  they  are  ends  and  not  means.  We  rest 
hi  them.  They  react,  indeed,  on  the  inferior  parfe  of  the 
constitution,  but  do  not  serve  them  in  the  same  sense  in 
which  they  are  served.  Love,  as  involving  not  merely 
coQstitutioDal  affection,  but  rational  choice,  is  the  highest 


132  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

form  in  which  our  nature  can  manifest  itself.  There  is  in 
it  a  synthesis  of  affection  and  of  will. 

From  these  differences  it  is  plain  that  in  passing  to  the 
affections,  taken  as  a  whole,  we  enter  another  region  and 
group,  where  we  find  elements  that  are  wholly  new.  We 
come  to  that  in  the  intelligent  world  which  answers  to 
heat  and  electricity  and  magnetism  in  the  physical  world, 
or  rather  to  the  one  agent  of  which  these  may  be  but 
the  varied  manifestations.  Heretofore,  all  has  been  appro- 
priation, and  has  looked  towards  self.  Here  self  is  not 
forgotten  in  the  arrangements  of  God,  but  must  be  by  us. 
The  desire  that  enters  into  love  retains  its  power  of  good 
to  us  as  a  desire,  but  by  thus  entering  loses  its  capability 
of  being  abused  into  selfishness.  As  an  apjoropriating 
desire  it  is  wholly  lost.  In  becoming  a  desire  for  the  good 
of  others,  it  becomes  disinterested.  Of  this,  the  possibil- 
ity, as  I  have  said,  has  been  doubted  by  some.  They  do 
not  believe  that  a  son,  knowing  that  he  should  inherit  a 
large  estate  on  the  death  of  his  father,  dej^endent  on  his 
assiduity,  could  attend  upon  and  cheer  him  through  his 
final  sickness  purely  from  affection.  They  are  in  the  same 
position  as  the  heathen,  who  cannot  conceive  that  the 
missionaries  should  come  with  the  simple  object  of  doing 
them  good,  whereas  the  whole  glory  of  the  missionary 
work  is  in  its  unselfishness.  When  that  departs,  it  is  shorn 
of  the  locks  of  its  strength,  and  becomes  like  any  other 
cause.  But  in  this  structure  and  action  of  affection  we 
simply  find  the  paradox  of  our  Saviour  that  he  who  would 
find  his  life  must  lose  it.  That  is  not  peculiar  to  his  reli- 
gion.   It  has  its  basis  in  our  nature.    It  is  the  condition  on 

o 

which  any  higher  life  of  the  affections  is  to  be  found.  It 
is  by  losing  all  thought  of  himself  that  a  man  finds  his 
own  higher  self.    The  ultimate  happiness  and  good  for 


THE   AFFECTIONS.  133 

man  is  someth-ng  more  than  the  happiness  from  desire,  as 
found  in  affection.  That  is  there  the  inferior  and  weaker 
element.'  It  is  from  a  union  in  sympathy,  of  which  desire 
knows  nothing,  from  a  mutual  love ;  it  is  in  a  glow,  and 
ardor,  and  exultation  ineffable  in  view  of  the  high  powers 
and  qualities  of  other  beings  to  whom  we  are  united  by 
an  unalterable  affection,  —  an  affection  springing  from  the 
very  depths  of  our  rational  and  voluntary  nature,  and 
through  which  we  find  relationship  and  kindred  dearer 
than  any  other.  Here  again  the  Saviour  understood  our 
nature,  and  hence  condensed  all  the  natural  relationships 
into  one  to  express  that  of  moral  affinity.  "  For  whoso- 
ever," said  he,  "  shall  do  the  will  of  God,  the  same  is  ray 
brother,  and  sister,  and  mother."  The  blessedness  from  a 
sympathy  and  love  where  there  is  perfect  moral  compla- 
cency, who  can  estimate?  Who  can  estimate  the  reper- 
cussion and  multiplication  of  joy  when  each  one  shall  not 
only  have  joy  in  himself,  but  shall  also  rejoice  with  all 
that  do  rejoice?  How  shall  the  whole  principle  and 
method  of  selfishness  be  reversed,  when,  instead  of  looking 
on  his  own  things,  every  man  shall  look  also  on  the  things 
of  othei-s,  not  with  envy  or  jealousy,  but  with  the  greater 
delight  as  the  gifts  and  endowments  are  greater,  and  shall 
feel  that  he  owns  them  all  in  a  far  higher  sense  than  he 
who  can  enjoy  it  owns  the  landscape! 

In  affection  it  is  the  union  in  sympathy  that  is  the  elec- 
tric element,  and  this  may  pervade  society  as  if  it  were  a 
living  organism,  and  so  that^  whatever  is  felt  by  one  shall 
be  felt  by  all.  From  what  we  see  of  the  power  of  sympa- 
thy  in  large  bodies  of  men,  in  nations  engaged  in  a  com- 
mon cause,  where  there  is  yet  much  sellishness,  and  the 
means  of  communication  are  imperfect,  we  may  imagine 
what  it  would  be  if  there  were  no   selfishness  and  the 

13 


134  LECTURES   ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

means  of  communication  were  complete.  With  these  con- 
ditions, the  "joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth"  would  follow,  of  course. 

Not  only  do  the  affections,  as  has  been  said,  point 
towards  society,  but  they  are  the  only  social  element.  The 
appetites  and  the  desires  both  appropriate.  They  are  not, 
in  their  own  nature,  and  of  necessity,  selfish;  but  they 
have  a  primary  reference  to  self,  and  become  selfish  when 
they  so  act  as  to  encroach  upon  the  sphere  of  the  faculties 
above  them.  If  a  man  so  indulge  his  appetites  as  to 
encroach  upon  his  desires, — if  the  love  of  eating  over- 
master and  dwarf  the  desire  for  knowledge,  —  there  is  self- 
ishness as  well  as  sensuality  in  the  act,  because  the  man 
dwarfs  his  higher  nature,  and  so  unfits  himself  for  the  good 
he  might  do  to  others.  So,  too,  though  the  desires,  acting 
within  their  own  sphere,  are  merely  manifestations  of  our 
nature  having  reference  to  self,  but  not  selfish ;  yet  if  they 
encroach  upon  the  sphere  of  the  affections,  they  imme- 
diately become  selfish,  and  it  is  one  of  the  common  and 
prominent  forms  of  selfishness  for  them  to  do  this.  With 
only  appetite  and  desire,  the  whole  object  of  man  would 
be  appropriation  to  himself,  and  he  would  use  his  fellow- 
men  as  things,  simply  for  his  own  convenience.  Men  would 
care  no  more  for  each  other  than  the  player  does  for  his 
nine-pins.  Association  there  might  be,  but  no  society ;  and 
the  association  would  have  about  it  no  charm,  no  beauty, 
no  warmth,  nothing  disinterested  or  noble.  But  let  now 
the  affections  Come  in ;  let  friendship,  and  gratitude,  and 
pity;  let  sympathy  and  love  in  its  various  forms,  as  conju- 
gal, filial,  and  fraternal  affection,  appear,  and  they  make  a 
new  world.  They  are  like  the  angels  from  heaven  descend- 
hig  among  men.  They  come,  and  mere  forms,  and  con- 
ventionalisms,  and   hypocrisies    and    overreachings,  give 


THE   AFFECTIONS   DISINTERESTED.  135 

place,    and    disappear   like    birds  of  night  before  the  light 
of  day. 

That  the  aftectious  arc  the  only  social  element,  it  is 
desirable  to  notice,  because  it  shows  us  precisely  what  we 
are  to  cultivate  to  make  society  perfect;  and  also  how  it  is 
chiefly  liable  to  be  coiTupted,  or  rather  perverted.  This  is 
by  the  coming  in  of  the  desires  where  the  affections  ought 
to  rule.  The  affections,  as  I  have  said,  cannot  be  interested. 
A  true  friendship  cannot  be  so,  and  hence  its  beauty,  —  a 
beauty  scarcely  paralleled  on  earth.  But  if  we  suppose 
those  acts  which  seemed  to  be  prompted  by  friendship,  to 
be  really  prompted,  not  by  affection  going  out  towards  the 
person,  but  by  the  desire  of  some  benefit  from  him,  the 
beauty  will  vanish  in  a  moment,  and  contempt  and  detes- 
tation will  take  the  place  of  complacency  and  admira- 
tion. In  married  life,  and  in  all  preliminaries  to  it,  there 
is  beauty  as  the  affection  is  pure,  not  only  from  sensuality, 
but  from  all  desire  of  property,  or  of  any  incidental  advan- 
tage. There  is  an  expression  employed  by  some,  —  that 
of  using  one's  friends,  —  that  was  always  offensive  to  me. 
The  displacement  in  society  of  affection  by  desire  is  bad 
enough,  but  the  shameless  avowal  of  it  is  worse.  Here  is 
a  chief  ground  of  the  hypocrisy  noticed  in  connection  with 
the  desire  of  esteem.  Nothing  can  be  more  annoying  or 
chilling  than  to  be  in  a  community  where  there  is  a  uni- 
versal tendency  to  gratify  some  form  of  desire  under  the 
profession  and  appearance  of  affection,  and  especially  to 
boast  of  success  in  this  as  an  evidence  of  smartness  and 
of  a  knowledge  of  human  nature.  This  it  is  that  gives  to 
fashionable  life,  when  the  people  who  are  in  it  understand 
each  other,  as  they  generally  do,  its  heartlessness,  and  lays 
it  open  to  the  shafts  of  satire.  Let  its  polished  but  meagi'O 
conventionalisms  be  filled  out  with  a  hearty  affection,  and 


136  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

it  would  be  like  the  resurrection  and  free  motion  of  a 
corpse  that  had  simply  been  galvanized.  The  same  is  true 
in  all  the  relations  of  life.  The  corruption  is,  that  appetite 
and  desire,  and  so  sensuality  and  selfishness,  have  usurped 
the  place  of  the  alFections ;  and  the  great  thing  needed  in 
society  is  that  these  should  assume  their  due  prominence, 
and  rule  in  their  own  sphere. 

In  what  has  been  said  hitherto  no  distinction  has  been 
made  between  the  natural  and  the  moral  affections.  That 
distinction  we  must  now  draw,  for  in  strictness  it  is  only 
the  natural  affections  that  should  be  spoken  of  here. 

The  character  of  an  affection  is  determined  by  its  origin 
and  its  object.  The  natural  affections  are  those  that  spring 
up  impulsively  as  do  the  appetites  and  the  desires,  and  are 
such  as  we  share  in  kind  with  the  animals.  They  do  not 
spring  from  the  moral  nature,  and  have  no  regard  to  the 
moral  character  of  their  object.  They  have,  therefore,  no 
moral  character  in  themselves,  but,  like  the  appetites  and 
the  desires,  are  purely  instrumental,  and  are  good  and 
evil  solely  as  they  are  controlled.  They  are  good  in  their 
place,  and  for  the  j^urpose  for  which  they  were  intended, 
but  are  not  morally  good,  and  do  not  become  so  by  being 
brought  under  moral  control.  The  moral  affections  spring 
from  the  moral  nature ;  and  it  is  upon  moral  beings,  as 
such,  that  they  rest. 

This  distinction  seems  plain,  but  may,  perhaps,  be  made 
more  so  by  a  reference  to  the  language  of  the  Scriptures. 
In  them  the  term  "Heart"  is  used  to  signify  the  affec- 
tions, but  not  the  natural  affections.  In  the  expression, 
"My  sou,  give  me  thy  heart,"  we  feel  at  once  that,  while 
the  affections  are  meant,  there  is  yet  an  entire  exclusion  of 
any  tiling  like  the  natural  affections.  That  expression  car- 
ries us  at  once  into  a  region  that  is  wholly  moral  and  free, 


THE  HIGHEST  POBM  OP  ACTIYfTY.  137 

and  when  God  is  the  object  of  affection  there  is  in  it  the 
highest  possible  form  of  activity.  A  supreme  love,  as  that 
of  God  must  be,  if  it  be  at  all,  involves  the  choice  of  a  su- 
preme end,  and  that  was  shown  in  the  second  lecture  to  be 
the  highest  act  of  a  rational  being  —  the  outgrowth  of  his 
whole  personal  activity.  From  what  was  said  at  one  point 
it  might  be  supposed  that  the  will,  as  distinguished  from 
the  affections,  would  be  the  highest,  but  in  this  love  there 
is  a  coalescence  of  will  and  affection  such  that  the  love 
may  be  said  to  be  the  two  united.  There  is  in  it  a  rational 
preference  which  belongs  to  the  will  as  free ;  there  is  in 
it  benevolence  and  the  highest  complacency  and  delight. 
These  are  not  there  as  separate  elements,  more  than  the 
ultimate  elements  of  the  flower,  the  oxygen  and  hydro 
gen  and  carbon,  are  separate  in  that.  They  tend  to  make 
up  the  one  love,  which,  as  the  joint  product  of  the  high- 
est faculties  of  man,  thus  becomes  the  one  "  consummate 
flower"  of  his  existence.  Not  unlike  is  it  to  the  flower  of 
those  plants  which  put  forth  but  a  single  one  at  the  top, 
and  which  is  the  product  and  highest  expression  of  their 
whole  life. 

But  while  the  line  between  the  natural  and  the  moral 
affections  is  thus  theoretically  distinct,  it  is  many  times 
both  difiicult  and  important  to  distinguish  them  practi- 
cally. 

It  is  diflacult,  because  they  so  conspire  together,  and 
seem  to  permeate  each  other.  They  are  often,  we  may 
say  generally,  in  exercise  at  the  same  time,  and  with  the 
same  person  for  their  object,  and  the  whole  result  becomes 
80  blended  into  one  as  to  be  inseparable.  When  the  two 
conspire  there  is  a  perfect  complacency  and  satisfaction, 
but  we  cannot  tell  how  much  to  attribute  to  each ;  when 

12* 


138  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

they  confl.ctit  is  often  difficult  to  say  how  far  each  should 
prevail. 

It  may  also  be  important  to  separate  the  natural  from 
the  moral  affections.  It  may  not.  What  nature  gives  us 
together  we  may  receive  together.  We  may  eat  the  pud- 
ding with  no  attempt,  even  in  thought,  to  separate  the 
sugar  that  pervades  every  particle  of  it  from  that  which 
forms  its  basis ;  and  that  is  the  pleasantest  way.  Still,  if 
we  would  judge  accurately  or  even  fairly  of  men,  the  line 
which  separates  the  two  forms  of  the  affections  must  be 
drawn.  The  reason  is  that  the  natural  affections  are  liable 
to  be  mistaken  for  moral  character.  In  all  that  pertains 
to  the  natural  affections  the  differences  of  endowment  by 
nature,  and  with  no  reference  to  moral  character,  are  as 
gi'eat  as  they  are  with  reference  to  the  intellect,  or  strength 
and  beauty  of  body.  In  some  these  natural  endowments 
are  rich  and  free  and  beautiful  in  their  spontaneous  actidn. 
Such  are  said  to  be,  and  they  are,  amiable.  Others  are  the 
reverse  of  this.  It  is  no  fault  of  theirs ;  it  is  an  infeli- 
city. One  is  the  rose,  and  the  other  the  nettle ;  one  is  the 
smooth,  and  the  other  the  rough-barked  tree ;  and  nature 
has  made  the  difference.  Still,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find 
the  richest  gifts  of  the  natural  affections  as  well  as  of  the 
intellect  associated  with  the  deepest  moral  corruption. 
To  this  there  seem  to  be  even  some  special  tendencies.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  often  find  from  those  less  happy  in  nat- 
ural endowments  moral  manifestations  that  surprise  and 
delight  us  the  more  on  that  very  account.  To  be  cheerful, 
much  more,  to  be  self-forgetful  and  actively  benevolent 
despite  inferiority  or  infelicity  of  natural  endowments,  is 
'^'^  ong  the  highest  foims  of  virtue, 
^^yt'^hile,  therefore,  we  recognize  all  there  is  in  this  part 


THE  AFFECTIONS  CLASSIFIED.  139 

of  oTjf  nature  of  beauty,  and  of  desirableness  for  social 
life,  we  are  not  to  confound  gifts  with  virtues,  nor  natural 
kindness  of  heart  and  amenity  of  manners  with  moral 
principle.  We  admire  the  natural  affections,  we  regard 
any  great  lack  of  them  as  a  deformity,  we  are  apt  to  cen- 
sure it  as  if  it  must  have  had  a  moral  origin ;  still,  if  the 
moral  nature  be  withdrawn,  there  remains  in  them  but  the 
foreshadowing  and  prophecy  of  something  yet  higher. 

The  distinction  now  made  is  indispensable ;  but,  in  treat- 
ing of  what  are  called  the  natural  affections  in  man,  we  are 
not  to  suppose  we  are  treating  of  them  alone.  The  light 
of  the  moral  affections  constantly  shines  through  them, 
and  gives  them  a  radiance  not  their  own.  In  what  shall 
be  said  further  of  the  affections,  this  distinction,  therefore, 
need  not  be  particularly  regarded.      c^'^^V^"^^ 

By  most  writei-s  the  affections  are  divided  into  the  be- 
nevolent and  the  malevolent.  But  the  terra  malevolent 
is  unfortunate.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  designate 
thevn  with  reference  to  their  end  rather  than  their  ori- 
gin, and  divide  them  into  those  intended  to  make  others 
happy,  and  those  for  self-defence  and  punishment.  We 
should  then  have  for  one  class  what  we  must  still  call  the 
benevolent  affections,  and  for  the  other  the  defensive  and 
punitive.  Affections  strictly  malevolent  are  not  to  be 
presumed,  but  self-defence  and  punishment  are  each  neces- 
Bary  and  proper,  and  we  might  expect  there  would  be 
affections  that  should  indicate  these  and  support  us  in 
them. 

In  inquiring  after  the  number  of  the  original  benevolent 
affections,  for  these  come  firat  in  order,  we  are  to  be  guided 
in  the  same  way  as  when  we  were  inquiring  respecting  the 
desires.  Consciousness  must  be  the  ultimate  test ;  but  if 
we  can  ascertain  what  affections  would  be  necessary  to  the 


140  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

* 
upbuilding  of  a  perfect  society,  we  may  be  sure  we  shall 
find  just  those,  and  no  more.     Tlie  provisions  of  God  are 
always  adequate  for  their  end,  with  nothing  superfluous. 

The  first  will,  of  course,  be  those  that  belong  to  the 
family  as  a  divine  institution  into  which  man  is  born.  He 
does  not  originate  it,  but  is  born  into  it.  Here  we  have 
the  conjugal,  parental,  filial,  and  fraternal  afiections,  and 
where  these  exist  in  their  purity  and  proper  power,  a  fam- 
ily is  as  the  garden  of  God.  It  is  worthy  of  being  his 
institution.  It  is  the  centre  of  the  affections,  tlie  home, 
the  sphere  of  the  purest  and  best  earthly  happiness,  and 
the  germ  and  source  t)f  all  civil  institutions.  But  besides 
these  we  have  "  the  special  and  distinguishing  affection  of 
man  towards  woman,  and  of  woman  towards  man,  which 
tends  to  the  conjugal  union.  This  is  expressed  by  the 
word  love,  without  any  epithet."  .  We  have  also  sympa- 
thy, pity,  gratitude,  friendship,  patriotism,  and  general  be- 
nevolence, or  philanthropy.  These  may  all  be  included 
under  the  word  love,  as  their  opposites  may  be  under  the 
word  resentment. 

Of  the  benevolent  affections  generally  it  may  be  said 
that  the  pleasure  already  noticed  as  connected  with  them 
may  be  regarded  as  an  expression  of  the  approbation  of 
God,  and  as  an  invitation  to  us  to  cherish  them.  It  ex- 
presses the  wish  of  Him  who  made  us  that  these  affections 
should  prevail,  and  evinces  his  benevolence,  since  they 
are  at  once  happiness  in  those  who  exercise  them,  and 
productive  of  happiness  in  those  towards  whom  they  are 
exercised. 

We  are  also  fond  of  seeing  excess  in  these  affections 
rather  than  deficiency;  and  if  duty  be  called  upon  to 
control  them,  we  choose  it  should  be  for  restraint  and 
repression,  rather  than  excitement.     It  is  the  excess  of 


SHADES  OF  AFFECTION.  14l 

« 
these  affections,  the  preponderance  of  the  natural  element 
over  that  which  is  moral,  which  gives  rise  to  what  are 
called  amiable  weaknesses.  Through  these  our  respect  for 
a  man  is  diminished  more  than  our  love.  The  tenderness 
of  a  father  for  his  child  may  be  a  little  laughable,  yet  we 
easily  forgive  it,  and  prefer  it  to  the  least  want  of  affection. 

We  have  thus  a  double  provision  for  the  encouragement 
of  these  affections,  —  their  effect  upon  our  own  happiness, 
and  the  sympathy  of  others. 

The  terms  above  given"  may  indicate  sufficiently  the 
various  forms  of  affection  to  enable  us  to  speak  of  them 
intelligibly,  but  those  affections  are  constantly  differing 
from  each  other  and  from  themselves  as  their  objects 
differ.  What  it  is  to  love  can  be  known  only  by  loving, 
and  to  appreciate  the  different  shades  of  affection  we  must 
ourselves  have  felt  its  nice  and  varying  adjustment  to  its 
varying  objects.  A  feeling  of  responsibility,  of  anxiety, 
which  is  a  mixture  of  hope  and  fear,  of  proteclion  and 
of  peculiar  tenderness,  is  blended  with  parental  affection. 
Filial  affection  is  modified  by  gratitude,  confidence,  re- 
spect, and  reverence.  If  the  graver  and  sterner  virtues 
enter  largely  into  the  character  of  our  friend,  we  feel  for 
him  more  of  respect;  if  he  be  of  the  softer  mood  our 
affection  partakes  of  that  character. 

Of  the  particular  benevolent  affections  mentioned  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  treat  particularly  and  at  large,  but 
they  are  so  far  of  one  general  character  and  object  that 
that  will  not  be  requisite.  Like  the  appetites  and  the 
desires,  they  are  to  be  controlled  with  reference  to  their 
end,  and  will  be  most  for  the  happiness  of  the  individual 
when  they  are  so  controlled  as  to  build  up  the  most  per- 
fect Iiome,  and  the  most  perfect  civil  society. 

I  will  only  add,  that  as  society  originates,  and  finds  its 


142  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

beauty  and  blessedness  in  these  affections,  so  it  will  react 
upon  them.  That  form  of  society  and  those  habits  of  life 
are,  therefore,  to  be  preferred  which  give  to  these  the  best 
theatre  and  widest  scope.  Especially  is  it  to  be  said  that 
the  breaking  up  of  the  home  for  any  system  of  commun* 
ism  or  socialism  must  be  equally  opposed  to  the  inten- 
tions of  God  and  to  the  highest  happiness  of  man. 

But  besides  the  benevolent  affections  there  are,  as  has 
been  said,  those  that  have  been  called  malevolent.  Con- 
cerning the  origin  and  character  of  these  there  has  been 
great  diversity  of  view.  There  still  is.  But  the  part  they 
have  played  in  the  history  of  the  race  is  so  conspicuous^ 
and  they  are  so  difficult  of  control,  that  they  ought  to  be 
well  understood.       -\- 

Concerning  these,  two  remarks  may  be  made,  the  oppo- 
site of  those  made  concerning  the  benevolent  affections. 

The  first  is,  that  this  class  of  affections,  at  least  so  far  as 
they  are  malevolent,  are  painful  to  those  who  exercise 
them,  thus  indicating  the  will  of  God  that  they  should  not 
be  indulged  in. 

The  second  remark  is,  that  mankind  are  pleased  to  see 
these  passions  repressed  and  moderated  below  their  nat- 
ural standard  rather  than  suffered  to  rise  above  it. 

As,  then,  we  found  a  double  provision  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  the  benevolent  affections,  —  our  own  satisfaction 
and  the  sympathy  of  others,  —  so  now  we  find  a  double 
provision  to  repress  these  opposite  affections,  —  our  own 
pain  and  the  disapprobation  of  others. 

Since  the  time  of  Butler  a  distinction  has  been  made 
between  "  sudden,"  as  he  called  it,  or,  as  it  has  since  been 
called,  instinctive  resentment,  and  that  which  is  deliberate. 
The  first  is  the  guard  appointed  by  nature  against  any 
sudden  attack.    It  is  the  assertion  by  whatever  is,  of  its 


FOUNDATION  OP  RESENTMENT.  143 

right  to  be,  and  confers  a  promptness  and  energy  wliich 
reason  could  never  bestow.  This  is  purely  the  work  of 
nature,  and  cannot  be  wrong.  It  is  only  concerning  delib- 
erate resentment  that  there  can  be  a  question. 

And  here  my  wish  is,  by  tracing  its  origin,  to  vindicate 
this  part  of  our  constitution  from  the  charge  of  anything 
malevolent,  properly  so  called,  and  to  show  its  propriety. 
This  will  give  us  the  key  to  its  proper  use. 

Let  us  then  suppose  two  moral  beings,  one  perfectly 
good,  the  other  perfectly  bad,  to  meet  together.  It  is 
clear  that  they  could  have  no  coincident  wishes,  but  would 
naturally  array  themselves  against  each  other.  "  What 
communion  hath  light  with  darkness  ?  "  If  now  the  evil 
being  should  exert  a  particular  act  of  injury  towards  the 
good,  what  would  be  the  feeling  of  the  hitter?  It  could 
not  be  the  same  that  he  would  have  towards  a  being  per- 
fectly good.  What  will  you  call  that  necessary  opposition, 
that  sense  of  repugnance,  of  dislike,  of  condemnation,  of 
abhorrence  even,  which  the  good  being  could  not  but  feel  ? 

It  is  this  opposition  of  virtue  to  vice,  of  holiness  to  sin, 
that  is  the  proper  foundation  of  resentment,  and  that  be- 
comes the  only  resentment  that  is  justifiable  when  vice 
exerts  itself  towards  us  in  a  definite  act.  In  this  view  of 
it,  resentment  is  nothing  more  than  a  sense  of  ill-desert 
where  it  really  exists,  and  a  desire  to  punish  it  so  far  as  is 
necessary ;  and  so  far  from  being  opposed  to  goodness,  in 
the  wide  and  proper  sense  of  that  word,  it  is  a  necessary 
part  of  it.  The  hatred  of  vice  is  the  opposite  pole  to  the 
love  of  virtue,  and  the  positive  cannot  be  evolved  without 
the  negative  side.  Of  necessity,  the  strength  of  the  one 
is  the  measure  of  that  of  the  other.  Moral  purity,  virtue, 
holiness,  whatever  wo  may  choose  to  call  it,  is  not  a  mere 
passif  e,  undiscriminating  quality.     Nothing  can  be  more 


144  Lectures  on  moral  science. 

positive,  active,  and  uncompromising.  Against  whatever 
is  opposed  to  it,  it  arrays  itself  in  a  conflict  that  can  know 
of  no  cessation  and  of  no  compromise  till  one  or  the  other 
is  completely  triumphant ;  and  this  opposition  cannot  be 
malevolent,  since  precisely  as  it  prevails  happiness  is  ex- 
tended, precisely  as  it  fails  misery  bears  sway.  If  this 
were  not  so,  there  could  be  nothing  venerable  or  awful 
about  goodness.  It  would  not  command  our  respect,  or 
be  worthy  of  the  throne  of  the  universe.  This  is  what  is 
termed  in  the  Scriptures  the  anger  of  God,  without  malice, 
without  revenge,  without  respect  of  persons  except  as 
good  or  evil ;  and  it  will  be  the  misery  of  those  who  shall 
be  finally  opposed  to  God,  that  they  will  be  opposed  to 
Infinite  Goodness,  and  that  Infinite  Goodness  will  be 
opposed  to  them,  not  because  it  is  malevolent,  but  be- 
cause it  is  Infinite  Goodness.  Here  we  find  the  source  of 
all  penal  law.  Without  this,  there  could  be  no  security, 
punishment,  or  redress.  It  is  this  feeling,  which,  on  the 
perception  of  wickedness  and  ill-desert,  if  the  injury  be 
ours,  we  term  resentment ;  if  it  be  upon  others,  indigna- 
tion  ;  but  the  principle  is  the  same,  and  is  entirely  different 
from  malevolence.  This  was  no  part  of  the  human  consti- 
tution as  made  by  God. 

When  we  spe?.k  of  the  opposition  of  virtue  and  vice,  it 
will  be  remembered  that  these  are  mere  abstractions. 
Strictly  speaking,  there  are  only  virtuous  and  vicious  per- 
sons, and  hence  the  punishment  of  vice  must  involve  the 
infliction  of  personal  misery,  though  without  malevolence. 

But  it  will  be  asked,  If  there  be  in  man  no  other  malev- 
olent principle  than  this,  how  shall  we  account  for  the 
jealousy,  the  envy,  the  hatred,  the  malice  and  revenge  that 
fill  and  disfigure  the  earth?  They  may,  I  think,  all  be 
traced  to  the  perverting  influence  of  selfishness  on  the 


JEALOUSY  AND  ENVY.  145 

original  and  natural  principle  of  resentment.  To  be  satis^ 
fied  of  this,  a  brief  reference  to  each  will  suffice.  /^ 

Jealousy  is  an  affection  which  has  direct  and  sole  refer- 
ence to  self.  We  are  jealous  of  no  one  who  is  not  or  may 
not  be  a  rival.  It  is  when  interests  are  likely  to  conflict 
that  selfishness,  without  provocation,  stirs  up  that  form  of 
ill-will  which  we  call  jealousy.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
envy.  Indeed,  envy  and  jealousy  are  the  same  affection 
towards  persons  differently  situated.  That  which  is  jeal- 
ousy towards  those  who  we  fear  may  surpass  us,  becomes 
envy  when  once  we  are  fairly  distanced  in  the  competi- 
tion. In  w^itnessing  a  contest,  we  feel  no  envy.  Envy  is 
the  dislike  of  those  who  are  above  us  because  they  are 
above  us,  and  a  desire  to  pull  them  down  to  our  own  level. 
It  is,  therefore,  directly  to  selfishness  that  these  two  evil 
affections  may  be  traced. 

But  jealousy  and  envy  are  apt  to  become  settled  hatred. 
Hear  those  who  are,  or  have  been  competitors,  speak  of 
each  other,  and  you  will  find  the  reason.  You  will  find 
that  they  impute  the  success  of  their  opponent  to  unfair- 
ness in  him  or  others,  —  to  some  cause  which  will  justify 
them  in  showing  resentment.  Their  self-estimation  will 
not  permit  them  to  think  otherwise.  With  her  jaundiced 
eye  selfishness  can  convert  even  the  excellences  of  others 
into  faults,  and  then,  having  something  that  she  supposes 
she  can  fairly  blame,  she  usurps  the  place  of  conscience, 
and  calls  upon  resentment,  which  in  this  unholy  alliance 
becomes  malice,  to  pursue  them.  Hatred  does  not  spring 
np  naturally  from  the  relations  in  which  we  find  ourselves 
in  society,  as  do  the  natural  affections,  but  requires  as  its 
condition  some  injury  real  or  supposed.  So  with  revenge. 
By  its  very  nature  and  definition  it  implies  previous  injury, 
And  it  is  nothing  more  than  the  natural  feeling  of  resent- 
13 


146  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

ment  exaggerated  by  selfishness,  and  abused  into  a  settled 
and  inveterate  passion. 

The  extent  of  these  passions,  and  the  slight  occasions 
on  which  they  are  permitted,  are  indeed  wonderful,  but 
they  may  all  be  traced  to  the  combhiation  of  selfishness 
with  the  natural  and  necessary  principle  of  resentment. 
If  we  distinguish  between  actions  that  are  simply  injurious 
but  not  malevolent,  as  when  a  robber  plunders  another 
not  from  any  hatred  of  him,  but  from  a  love  of  his  money ; 
and  if  we  make  due  allowance  for  the  operation  of  a  per- 
verted and  perverting  selfishness  on  the  natural  feeling  of 
resentment,  we  may  see  how  far  man  may  be  said  to  have 
originally  affections  that  should  be  called  malevolent. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  evil  is  from  the  perversion  of  that 
which  was  good.  That  part  of  our  constitution  from  the 
perversion  of  which  th^se  affections  arise,  we  vindicate. 
It  is  essential  to  goodness  itself  It  guards  our  highest 
interests ;  it  is  the  basis  of  penal  law,  keeping  crime  and 
tyranny  lurking  in  their  lair ;  and  no  character  which  can- 
not, and,  if  need  be,  will  not  reveal  itself  as  opposed  with 
the  force  of  the  whole  being  to  moral  evil,  can  command 
our  respect. 

But  while  we  thus  vindicate  this  part  of  our  constitution 
as  it  was  originally  given,  we  utterly  condemn  all  jealousy 
and  envy,  all  hatred,  malice  and  revenge.  They  are  not  a 
part  of  our  original  constitution,  and  were  never  made  by 
God.  Jealousy  and  envy  are  not  only  among  the  basest, 
but  are  the  meanest,  of  the  passions.  They  are  indulged 
in  only  by  those  who  are  conscious  of  inferiority,  and  are 
not  only  malignant,  but  are  a  confession  of  that  degrading 
consciousness.  These,  as  well  as  malice  and  envy,  bring 
their  own  punishment  with  them.  They  bring  it  in  the 
disquiet  which  they  necessarily  cause  to  their  possessor 


FORGITENESS.  l4T 

and  in  the  detestation  with  which  they  are  viewed  by 
mankind.  We  cannot,  therefore,  too  sedulously  stifle  these 
double  curses,  curses  upon  ourselves  and  others,  and 
which  have  so  filled  the  earth  with  discord  and  misery. 

In  opposition  to  these,  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  that 
beautiful  trait  of  Christian  morals,  the  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries. How  infinitely  supenor  is  this  to  all  recrimination  ! 
Revenge  places  us,  at  best,  upon  a  level  with  those  who 
have  injured  us, —  forgiveness  elevates  us  fai*  above  them. 
And  then  how  fitted  is  it  to  the  condition  of  man !  If, 
as  all  experience  shows,  there  must  be  mutual  forbearance 
in  the  end,  why  not  exercise  it  before  suffering  the  mise- 
ries of  mutual  recrimination?  If  we  all  need  forgiveness 
from  God,  how  suitable  that  we  should  forgive  each  other ! 
To  make  an  offence  unpardonable  simply  because  it  is 
against  ourselves,  is  the  arrogance  and  blindness  of  selfish- 
ness, and  involves  a  principle  that  would  preclude  all  for- 
giveness. Forgiveness  and  placability  are  not  meanness 
or  pusillanimity,  —  they  are  that  attitude  of  humanity  in 
which  it  most  resembles  God.  Z%,^^^A 

In  considering  the  affections  in  connection  with  morals, 
we  next  inquire  how  far  they  are  subject  to  the  will. 

There  are  those  who  suppose  that  the  affections  and 
passions  are  enkindled  and  drawn  from  us  by  a  fixed  law, 
as  electricity  flashes  from  one  cloud  to  another,  and  that 
we  are  therefore  not  responsible  for  them.  But  the  voice 
of  mankind  is  that  men  are  responsible  for  fheir  feelings 
through  the  whole  range  of  the  emotive  nature,  as  well  ns 
for  their  actions.  They  judge  that  men  can  govern  their 
passions,  not  only  by  restraining  those  external  acts  to 
which  passion  would  excite  them,  but  also  by  moTlerating 
and  subduing  the  feeling  itself.  This  is  correct.  Men  are 
responsible  not  only  for  the  feeling  they  have,  but  also  fop 


146  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

ment  exaggerated  by  selfishness,  and  abused  into  a  settled 
and  inveterate  passion. 

The  extent  of  these  passions,  and  the  slight  occasions 
on  which  they  are  permitted,  are  indeed  wonderful,  but 
they  may  all  be  traced  to  the  combination  of  selfishness 
with  the  natural  and  necessary  principle  of  resentment. 
If  we  distinguish  between  actions  that  are  simply  injurious 
but  not  malevolent,  as  when  a  robber  plunders  another 
not  from  any  hatred  of  him,  but  from  a  love  of  his  money; 
and  if  we  make  due  allowance  for  the  operation  of  a  per- 
verted and  perverting  selfishness  on  the  natural  feeling  of 
resentment,  we  may  see  how  far  man  may  be  said  to  have 
originally  affections  that  should  be  called  malevolent. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  evil  is  from  the  perversion  of  that 
which  was  good.  That  part  of  our  constitution  from  the 
perversion  of  which  thgse  affections  arise,  we  vindicate. 
It  is  essential  to  goodness  itself  It  guards  our  highest 
interests ;  it  is  the  basis  of  penal  law,  keeping  crime  and 
tyranny  lurking  in  their  lair ;  and  no  character  which  can- 
not, and,  if  need  be,  will  not  reveal  itself  as  opposed  with 
the  force  of  the  whole  being  to  moral  evil,  can  command 
our  respect. 

But  while  we  thus  vindicate  this  part  of  our  constitution 
as  it  was  originally  given,  we  utterly  condemn  all  jealousy 
and  envy,  all  hatred,  malice  and  revenge.  They  are  not  a 
part  of  our  original  constitution,  and  were  never  made  by 
God.  Jealousy  and  envy  are  not  only  among  the  basest, 
but  are  the  meanesi,  of  the  passions.  They  are  indulged 
in  only  by  those  who  are  conscious  of  inferiority,  and  are 
not  only  malignant,  but  are  a  confession  of  that  degrading 
consciousness.  These,  as  well  as  malice  and  envy,  bring 
their  own  punishment  with  them.  They  bring  it  in  the 
disquiet  which  they  necessarily  cause  to  their  possessor 


FORGIVENESS.  14? 

and  in  the  detestation  with  which  they  are  viewed  by- 
mankind.  We  cannot,  therefore,  too  sedulously  stifle  these 
double  curses,  curses  upon  ourselves  and  others,  and 
which  have  so  filled  the  earth  with  discord  and  misery. 

In  opposition  to  these,  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  that 
beautiful  trait  of  Christian  morals,  the  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries. How  infinitely  supeiior  is  this  to  all  recrimination  ! 
Revenge  places  us,  at  best,  upon  a  level  with  those  who 
have  injured  us, —  forgiveness  elevates  us  fai*  above  them. 
And  then  how  fitted  is  it  to  the  condition  of  man !  If, 
as  all  experience  shows,  there  must  be  mutual  forbearance 
in  the  end,  why  not  exercise  it  before  suffering  the  mise- 
ries of  mutual  recrimination?  If  we  all  need  forgiveness 
from  God,  how  suitable  that  we  should  forgive  each  other ! 
To  make  an  offence  unpardonable  simply  because  it  is 
against  ourselves,  is  the  arrogance  and  blindness  of  selfish- 
ness, and  involves  a  principle  that  would  preclude  all  for- 
giveness. Forgiveness  and  placability  are  not  meanness 
or  pusillanimity,  —  they  are  that  attitude  of  humanity  in 
which  it  most  resembles  God.  T^-^*A 

In  considering  the  affections  in  connection  with  morals, 
we  next  inquire  how  far  they  are  subject  to  the  will. 

There  are  those  who  suppose  that  the  affections  and 
passions  are  enkindled  and  drawn  from  us  by  a  fixed  law, 
as  electricity  flashes  from  one  cloud  to  another,  and  that 
we  are  therefore  not  responsible  for  them.  But  the  voice 
of  mankind  is  that  men  are  responsible  for  tlieir  feelings 
through  the  whole  range  of  the  emotive  nature,  as  well  ns 
for  their  actions.  They  judge  that  men  can  govern  their 
passions,  not  only  by  restraining  those  external  acts  to 
which  passion  would  excite  them,  but  also  by  moTlerating 
and  subduing  the  feeling  itself.  This  is  correct.  Men  are 
responsible  not  only  for  the  feeling  they  have,  but  also  for 


148  LECTURES   ON  MORAL   SCIENCE. 

not  having  the  feelings  they  lack  ;  and  yet  no  man  can,  by 
any  direct  act  of  the  will,  cause  any  one  feeling,  affection, 
or  passion,  to  exist.  ^  Throughout  its  whole  range  the  emo- 
tive part  of  our  nature  is  excited  by  an  object  adapted  to 
excite  it,  and  not  by  a  direct  act  of  the  will.  No  man  can 
feel  pity  simply  by  willing  to  feel  it.  He  must  have  a  view 
of  poverty,  sickness,  distress,  in  some  form,  and  it  will  arise 
in  view  of  these.  No  man  can  feel  gratitude  except  in 
view  of  a  benefactor.  No  man  can  feel  love  or  respect 
for  one  of  whose  character  he  is  ignorant.  These  must 
arise  in  view  of  excellence  real  or  supposed.  Not  on  a 
direct  act  of  the  will,  nor  on  the  object  as  it  is  in  itself, 
but  on  the  object  as  viewed  by  the  mind,  will  the  feeling 
depend.  A  lover  may  suppose  that  he  sees  perfection 
where  another  would  not  see  it,  and  where  possibly  it  does 
not  exist,  but  the' feeling  will  be  the  same.  Here  the  feel- 
ings and  affections  called  moral  are  governed  by  the  same 
laws  as  those  that  are  not.  Were  a  person  commanded  to 
feel  the  emotion  of  beauty,  as  he  may  be,  and  is,  to  feel 
the  affection  of  love,  he  might  shut  his  eyes  and  say  that 
he  had  no  control  over  his  emotions,  but  not  thus  could  he 
escape  the  obligation.  Before  he  could  do  that,  he  would 
be  required  to  seek  out  some  fair  face,  or  beautiful  form, 
or  exquisite  work  of  art,  or  to  find  his  way  to  some  com- 
manding eminence  whence,  he  might  cast  his  eye  over 
mountain  and  valley,  the  cultivated  field  and  the  winding 
stream,  and  then  if  he  should  not  feel  the  emotion  of 
beauty  he  might  be  absolved  from  the  obligation. 

But  as  men  have  different  degrees  of  feeling  on  viewing 
the  same  object,  it  may  be  asked,  What  should  be  thought 
of  one  who  should  give  his  best  attention  to  an  object 
adapted  to  produce  a  given  feeling,  and  not  have  it  ? 
What  should  we  think  of  a  man  who  could  thus  see  dis- 


HARDNESS  OF  HEART.  149 

tress  but  feel  no  compassion  ?  That  would  depend  on  his 
previous  history.  If  he  had  gone  through  no  hardening 
process,  I  do  not  see  that  he  would  be  worthy  of  censure. 
Such  a  case  we  sh'ould  regard  as  unnatural,  as  monstrous, 
as  we  should  a  natural  deformity,  but  it  would  simply  indi- 
cate the  want  of  an  original  capacity.  To  most  persons 
the  feeling  of  pity  on  meeting  suddenly  with  a  scene  of 
distress  is  as  unavoidable  as  the  feeling  of  surprise  on 
meeting  with  one  that  was  unexpected ;  but  as  the  spon- 
taneous presence  of  a  feeling  withoi^J;  the  intervention  of 
the  will  is  not  a  virtue,  so  its  absence,  where  the  suscepti- 
bility is  wanting,  is  not  a  fault.  This,  however,  is  not  the 
hardness  of  heart  which  mankind  condemn.  That  comes 
from  the  over-mastering  power  of  some  cherished  and 
selfish  passion.  A  man  who  has  given  himself  up  to  the 
love  of  gold,  when  he  pays  his  visits  to  his  poor  tenants  on 
the  very  day  their  rents  become  due,  can  see  nothing,  and 
hear  nothing,  and  think  of  nothing  but  money.  His  mind 
is  so  absorbed  by  that,  that  there  is  no  room  for  any  other 
feeling.  It  is  not  that  he  has  no  susceptibility,  but  that  an 
absorbmg  selfishness  has  closed  up  the  avenues  to  his 
heart.  Seeing,  he  sees  not.  His  finer  susceptibilities  fall 
into  desuetude ;  a  current  gets  its  set  in  his  soul  which 
undermines  and  washes  away  everything  beautiful,  and 
then,  indeed,  by  wrong  action  long  indulged,  comes  that 
hardness  of  heart  which  the  world  justly  condemns.  It  is 
by  a  process  like  this  that  the  priests  and  the  Levites  are 
formed  who  pass  by  on  the  other  side.  They  know  there 
is  misery  in  the  world,  but  they  not  only  do  not  seek  it 
out,  they  avoid  it,  lest  it  should  disturb  their  selfish  quiet. 
In  what  I  have  said  hitherto,  the  object  which  was  to 
awaken  feeling  has  been  supposed  present  to  the  senses, 
but   this   is   not   necessary.      Mental   representation    and 

13* 


152  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

of  enforcement  at  the  present  time.  Always  there  hai^e 
been  those  who  have  justified  lawlessness  here  on  the  pre- 
tence that  the  feelings  were  irresistible.  They  have  even 
gloried  in  it  as  indicating  the  warmth*  and  richness  of  a 
nature  of  superior  endowments.  It  was  not  for  them  to 
be  cramped  by  the  rigidity  of  rules.  How  could  feeling 
be  brought  under  law  ?  What  had  they  to  do  with  the 
sternness  of  principle  ?  That  they  left  to  colder  natures. 
They  have  had  no  conception  of  desire  sanctified  by  affec- 
tion, and  strengthened  and  regulated  by  principle ;  but 
under  the  pretence  of  affection,  in  the  sacred  name  of  the 
heart,  they  have  cherished  selfish  and  licentious  desires ; 
and,  as  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  have  crept  into  and 
desolated  the  fold  of  domestic  peace.  But  never,  perhaps, 
has  this  been  so  common  as  now.  Now,  on  the  ground  of 
affinity^  or  the  want  of  it,  the  most  solemn  vows  are  vio- 
lated. Husbands  desert  their  wives,  and  wives  their  hus- 
bands, and  even  their  children,  and  doctrines  are  openly 
taught,  claiming  sanction  from  the  spiritual  world,  that 
would  subvert  the  most  sacred  institutions  of  society,  cor- 
rupting it  at  its  fountain-head,  and  that  would  obscure 
and  defile  those  pure  relationships  in  which  its  beauty  and 
strength  now  abide.  As  constituted  by  God,  with  its  ori- 
gin in  the  family,  society  is  a  soil  congenial  to  the  natural 
affections,  and,  unless  checked  by  the  selfish  passions,  they 
will  spring  up.  These  selfish  passions  men  can  repress. 
They  can  have  some  degree  of  consideration  in  forming 
the  conjugal  union ;  they  can  substitute  principle  for  pas- 
sion as  a  controlling  power,  and  can  dwell  on  those  aspects 
of  character  that  would  excite  affection.  They  can  con- 
trol many  circumstances  and  conditions  that  bear  on  the 
affections,  and  will  be  sure  to  foster  them ;  they  can  per- 
form the  external  acts  which  the  affections  require,  and 


THE  INTELLECT.  153 

form  habits  of  them,  and  these  will  react  on  the  feelings ; 
they  can  regard  the  higher  interests  of  those  with  whom 
they  are  associated,  and  cause  the  law  of  love  to  take 
the  place  of  those  capricious  emotions  which  have  nothing 
in  common  with  it  but  the  name.  They  can  thus  vindi- 
cate the  supremacy  of  the  moral  nature,  and,  instead  of  a 
sweltering  and  chaotic  mass  of  moral  corruption,  tending 
to  a  conniption  still  deeper,  can  -cause  society  to  present 
the  order  and  beauty  of  the  planetary  spheres. 

In  our  division  of  what  were  called  the  instrumental 
powers,  the  powers  that  are  to  be  governed,  that  are  for 
an  end  beyond  themselves,  we  made  one  class  of  those 
that  indicate  ends,  and  another  of  those  in  the  light  of 
which  ends  are  pursued.  The  first  class  we  have  now 
considered,  and  a  few  words  will  suffice  for  the  second. 

These  may  all  be  comprised  under  the  one  term  Intel- 
lect; but  will  include  only  those  faculties  and  operations 
of  intellect  that  may  be  modified  by  the  will.  It  will 
include  all  those  faculties  by  which  we  arrive  at  truth  by  a 
process,  and  will  exclude  those  that  are  intuitive. 

In  a  system  of  psychology  it  would  behove  us  to  con- 
sider these  powers  before  those  of  emotion,  since  something 
must  be  known  before  anything  could  be  felt.  But  wo 
are  now  considering  ends,  and  the  initiatory  step  towards 
an  end  is  not,  as  has  been  said,  in  the  intellect,  but  in 
some  tendency  or  craving,  some  feeling  of  want  or  appre- 
hension of  excellence.  For  this  the  intellect  is  indeed  a 
condition ;  but  it  seemed  more  accurate  to  begin  with  our 
fundamental  conception,  and  the  powers  which  give  ua 
tliat,  and  then  to  regard  the  intellect  as  simply  instru- 
mental. This,  however,  is  a  mere  question  of  arrange- 
njent,  and  is  not  particularly  important.  What  is  impor- 
tant is  that  we  should  apprehend  fully  the  connection  of 


154  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

truth  with  the  rational  pursuit  of  ends,  and  our  responsi- 
bility for  a  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

That  the  intellect,  as  now  defined,  is  simply  an  instru- 
ment, there  can  be  no  doubt.  It  is  difiicult  for  us  to  sepa- 
rate wholly  the  operation  of  knowing  from  ulterior  results ; 
but  when  this  is  done  we  see  that  it  cannot  be  an  end  in 
itself^'  Knowing  is  in  order  to  feehng  and  action,  and 
without  these  would  be-  wholly  barren.  The  law  of  the 
intellect,  therefore,  like  that  of  the  powers  already  con- 
sidered, will  be  from  its  end.  That  end,  as  we  now  con- 
template it,  is  not  knowledge  to  be  acquired  promiscu- 
ously under  the  stimulus  of  curiosity,  but  practical  truth, 
as  the  first  condition  of  wisdom.  For  this  the  intellect 
was  given.  It  was  intended  for  this,  as  the  eye  for  seeing, 
and  the  true  dispositions  required  in  the  conduct  of  it  are 
earnestness  and  candor. 

Of  these,  earnestness  will  secure  that  self-denying  labor, 
that  careful  analysis,  and  patient  induction,  and  compre- 
hensive research,  which  the  Scriptures  imply  when  they 
say,  "buy  the  truth  and  sell  it  not;"  and  candor  will 
secure  us  against  all  biases  from  interest,  and,  as  was  said 
under  the  affections,  from  our  having  already  chosen  a 
wrong  supreme  end.  This  is  the  same  as  that  singleness 
of  eye  spoken  of  by  our  Saviour,  through  which,  if  a  man 
has  it,  "  his  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light."  It  is  a  dis- 
position —  and  this  shows  the  philosophy  of  what  w^as  said 
by  our  Saviour,  and  cannot  be  too  strongly  enforced  —  a 
disposition  which  is  impossible  to  any  man  who  has  chosen 
a  supreme  end  that  is  wrong.  On  some  points  he  may  be 
candid,  but  not  in  reference  to  those  persons  and  things 
which  would  thwart  him  in  the  attainment  of  that  end. 
No  man  can  be  wholly  candid  who  has  not  chosen  the 
right  supreme  end,  and  so  has  no  interest  that  he  conceives 


RESPONSIBIUTY   FOR  OPINIONS.  155 

to  be  supreme,  to  be  otherwise.  It  is  Dot  that  candor  can- 
not exist  where  it  is  opposed  to  interest,  but  only  to  that 
which  is  regarded  as  supreme.  In  this  case  a  man  cannot 
consistently  come  to  the  light.  To  do  so  would  be  death 
to  him  in  that  which  he  counts  his  dearest  intej-cst,  and  so 
his  very  life.  But  he  who  has  chosen  the  true  supreme 
end  and  pursues  it  in  simplicity,  must  see  all  things  truly. 
There  can  be  no  refraction  in  his  mental  vision,  and  his 
whole  body  will  be  full  of  light.  This  is  the  only  position 
we  can  take  in  which  the  light  that  God  sends  will  not  be 
refracted.  "Without  this  we  shall  see  some  things  falsely ; 
more  or  less  we  shall  "  walk  in  a  vain  show." 

On  this  subject  we  concede  that  there  are  laws  of  evi- 
dence. Nay,  this  is  the  very  thing  we  assert,  and  it  is  just 
because  there  are  such  laws  that  we  hold  men  responsible 
for  their  opinions.  Without  them  they  could  not  be.  If 
there  were  no  certain  road  by  which  a  man  could  reach  a 
given  place,  he  would  not  be  responsible  for  not  getting 
there.  But  if  there  were  such  a  road,  and  he  should  be 
too  careless  and  self-confident  to  inquire  for  it,  or  should 
think  it  too  difficult  or  disagreeable  for  him  to  travel,  he 
would  be  responsible.  So  here.  Truth  is  one.  It  corres- 
ponds to  the  mind  as  light  to  the  eye.  It  was  intended  to 
be  seen,  and  if  the  laws  of  evidence,  the  fixed  condition 
of  our  receiving  it,  be  fully  complied  with,  it  will  be  seen 
as  in  a  pure  white  light,  and,  so  seen,  "  will  make  men 
free."  If  not,  the  mind  is  wrongly  constituted  in  its  rela- 
tion to  the  objects  of  knowledge,  and  the  constitution  of 
man  is  hopeless.  What  should  we  think  of  a  man  who 
should  hold  a  prism  before  his  eyes,  or  shut  himself  in  a 
room  with  windows  of  colored  glass,  and  then  complain 
that  he  could  not  see  objects  in  their  true  color,  because 
there  were  fixed  laws  and  conditions  of  vision  ?    Let  there 


156  LECTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

but  be  earnestness  and  candor,  and  nothing  can  prevent  the 
truth  from  being  both  seen  and  received.  But  for  earnest- 
ness and  candor  we  are  responsible.  This  none  will  deny 
who  admit  of  responsibility  at  all. 

The  truth  is,  we  are  so  endowed  and  so  placed  as  to  be 
capable,  not  of  all  knowledge,  nor  of  freedom  from  mis- 
takes, but  of  knowing  the  truth  so  far  as  it  bears  practi- 
cally upon  our  highest  interests.  This  we  cannot  do  by 
any  direct  act  of  will,  but  through  fixed  conditions,  Avhich 
will  ensure  it,  and  to  comply  with  these  conditions  is 
among  our  very  highest  and  most  sacred  duties.  To  love 
the  truth  is  here  the  first  and  great  commandment ;  to  tell 
the  truth,  which  is  like  it,  and  a  corollary  from  it,  is  only 
the  second.  It  is,  however,  a  duty  that  has  been  too  much 
overlooked.  In  our  current  treatises  on  morals,  truthful- 
ness has  had  a  large  place,  while  this  primal  and  higher 
duty  of  knowing  the  truth  has  been  scarcely  noticed.  To 
this  the  time  permits  me  simply  to  give,  as  I  have  now 
done,  what  seems  to  me  its  true  place,  and  in  doing  so  I 
bring  to  a  close  the  consideration  of  those  powers  which 
require  to  be  governed,  and  whose  chief  end  is  out  of  and 
beyond  themselves. 


LECTURE    VII. 

THE  MORAL  KATUKE.  — REASON.  — IDEAS  OF  DIFFERENT  ORDERS.  — HAVB 
AN  ORDER  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  —  FREE-WILL.  —  PERSONALITY.  —  ACTION 
TO  WHICH  RESPONSIBILITY  ATTACHES.  —  ALL  HORAL  PHENOMENA  IN 
CONNECTION  WITH  THE  CHOICE  OF  A  SUPREME  END.  — CONSCIENCE. - 
THE  MORAL  NATURE  DOUBLE.  — THE  HIGHEST  GOOD.  — COINCIDENCE  OF 
NATURAL  AND  REVEALED  LAW. 

Instincts,  appetites,  desires,  natural  affections,  intellect, 
—  mere  intellect,  or  understanding,  —  these  are  all  subor- 
dinate and  instrumental.  They  are  not,  for  man,  govern- 
ing powers;  and  however  they  may  be,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  a  condition  for  the  moral  nature,  they  are  no  part  of 
it,  and  may  be  conceived  of  as  acting  wholly  without  it 

In  passing  upward  in  the  scale  of  being  we  reach,  as  I 
have  said,  points  of  transition  where  there  is  no  longer 
merely  gradation,  but  a  leap,  and  the  introduction  of 
something  wholly  new.  We  come  to  a  difference,  not  in ' 
degree,  but  in  kind.  So  we  find  organization  in  a  variety 
of  forms,  and  in  great  perfection,  before  a  nervous  system 
is  introduced.  That,  as  endowed  with  sensation,  is  wholly 
new.  It  supposes  antecedent  and  auxiliary  organization 
into  which  it  may  be  put,  of  which  it  may  take  possession, 
and  which  may  minister  to  its  ends.  There  is  much  in 
every  vegetable  that  simulates,  and  seems  to  anticipate  a 
nervous  system,  but  it  is  not  there,  and  when,  with  its 
filaments  and  centres,  it  firet  pervaded  an  organization 
adapted  to  it,  and  responded  consciously  to  the  stimulus 
of  the  external  world,  it  w:is  as  if  thoro  had  been  a  new 
U  157 


158  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

star  set  in  the  heavens.  There  was  a  new  order  begun ; 
there  was  an  animal.  From  that  point  all  was  grada- 
tion till  a  moral  nature  was  introduced.  Then  there  was 
another  leap.  Then  man  was  made,  and,  if  a  little  lower 
than  the  angels,  yet  in  the  image  of  God.  Then  organiza- 
tion became  the  abode  and  instrument  of  a  spiritual  and 
responsible  being.  It  is  concerning  this  moral  nature  that 
we  are  now  to  inquire. 

And  here  I  observe  that  whoever  can  tell  what  that  is 
that  is  put  into  the  animal  nature  and  uses  it,  as  a  nervous 
system  might  be  put  into  a  vegetable  organization  and  use 
it,  so  that  there  shall  be  a  person  of  which  the  animal 
nature  shall  become  the  subordinate  constituent,  can  tell 
what  the  moral  nature  is,  for  man  is  no  further  a  person 
than  as  he  is  moral.  Here  it  is  that  we  find  the  ground 
and  necessity  of  that  threefold  division  of  man  into  body, 
soul,  and  spirit,  which  the  Scriptures  seem  to  recognize, 
and  which  philosophy  will  be  comiDclled  to  adopt.  To 
this  division  our  use  of  terms  conforms  but  imperfectly; 
but  as  thus  used  the  soul  will  include  those  powers  of  in- 
telligence which  we  share  in  common  with  the  brutes,  and 
'the  spirit  those  higher  powers  whicli  we  now  seek,  and  in 
which  personality  is  found. 

It  was  said  in  the  third  lecture  that  the  special  differ- 
ence between  man  and  all  that  is  below  him  is,  that  he 
chooses  his  own  end,  or  rather  that  he  may  either  choose 
or  reject  the  end  for  which  God  made  him.  If  this  be  so, 
the  powers  to  be  added  must  be  those  in  virtue  of  which 
he  does  this.  According  to  distinctions  already  made,  they 
must  be  directive  and  not  instrumental.  The  nature  thus 
added  must  be  ultimate,  that  is,  it  must  minister  to  noth- 
ing within  the  constitution  above  itself. 

Nor  will  the  addition  of  such  powers  be  a  slight  step 


REASON.  169 

upward.  The  transition  from  dead  to  vitalized  matter 
cannot  be  gi-eater.  It  is  as  a  new  morn  risen  upon  the 
high  noon  of  animal  existence.  In  the  powers  thus  given 
must  be  those  for  comprehension,  for  control,  for  wisdom, 
in  distinction  from  mere  devices  and  cunning.  A  brute 
has  not  merely  instinct,  but  some  degree  of  understand- 
ing, by  which  it  may  vary  means,  and  adapt  devices  often 
showing  much  cunning,  for  the  attainment  of  ends ;  but 
the  end  itself  of  an  animal  is  the  outgrowth  of  its  organi- 
zation, and  admits  of  no  alteniative.  But  man  is  capable 
of  knowing  the  difference  between  good  and  evil,  and  of 
choosing  between  ends  that  he  may  adopt  as  ultimate  and 
supreme.  He  can  either  adopt  as  supreme  the  end  pro- 
posed by  reason  and  sanctioned  by  conscience,  or  follow 
his  propensities.  He  can  either  serve  "  the  flesh  "  or  "  the 
spirit,"  and  one  of  these  he  must  do.  It  is  in  his  manifold- 
nessi  for  which  the  capacity  is  thus  given,  that  his  great- 
ness is  seen.  It  is  in  the  choice  of  the  right  end  that  there 
is  the  supreme  wisdom,  even  though  the  best  means  may 
not  be  chosen  ;  while,  if  the  wrong  end  be  chosen,  though 
there  be  the  utmost  skill  in  the  use  of  means,  there  is  yet 
supreme  folly.  So  is  it  that  we  have  singleness  of  eye  ;  so  • 
that  the  open  and  straight  path  of  wisdom  differs  from  the 
tortuous  course  of  the  serpent ;  so  tliat  "  the  children  of 
this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children 
of  light." 

What,  then,  are  the  powers  needed  that  man  may  choose 
bis  own  ends  ?  How  can  there  be,  not  only  impulses  from 
behind  that  may  impel,  but  also  an  end  before  that  may 
be  yielded  to  and  adopted  ?  What  are  the  elements  of 
personality,  and  the  a  pi'iori  conditions  of  a  moral  act  ? 

Of  the  powers  thus  sought  the  first  is  Reason.  In  com- 
mon language  man  is  distinguished  from  the  animals  by 


160  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

saying  that  he  has  reason.  Of  this  the  cotTectness  is  not 
to  be  questioned  if  we  mean  by  it  that  which  gives  origin 
to  the  word  rational,  rather  than  to  the  word  reasoning. 
No  one  supposes  animals  to  be  rational,  while  many  con- 
tend that  they  have  some  power  of  reasoning.  By  reason 
in  this  sense,  we  indicate  that  in  every  man  by  which  he  is 
necessitated  by  his  constitution,  and  as  the  condition  of 
his  being  a  man,  to  have  certain  ideas  and  beliefs,  so  that 
there  is  in  every  man  a  certain  amount  of  mental  furniture 
that  is  common  to  all.  These  products  of  reason  have  re- 
ceived different  names.  They  have  been  called  "first 
truths,"  "elements  of  human  reason,"  "laws  of  belief," 
"  principles  of  common  sense,"  but  in  all  the  same  thing  is 
meant.  Perhaps  a  better  name  than  either,  as  applicable 
both  to  ideas  and  beliefs,  vv  ould  be  rational  intuitions. 

These  ideas  and  beliefs  are  not  innate,  but  the  capacity 
for  them  is,  and  in  such  a  way  that  they  will  infallibly 
appear  in  every  human  being  when  the  occasion  for  them 
shall  be  given.  The  ideas  are  given  at  once,  but  the  be- 
liefs and  judgments  are  not  at  first  given  in  their  general 
form,  but  immediately  assume  that  form  through  a  partic- 
ular instance,  and  not  from  a  process  of  generalization. 
They  have  a  history  and  an  order  partly  natural,  and 
partly  in  accordance  with  the  history  of  the  individual  and 
the  process  of  his  development.  To  say  nothing  of  com- 
parison, and  of  the  ego  and  non-ego  given  in  contrast,  as 
stated  by  Hamilton,  the  first  act  of  consciousness  must 
involve,  first,  the  idea  of  being ;  second,  of  action,  since 
consciousness  is  an  activity ;  and,  third,  of  the  results  of 
the  activity  as  of  a  thought  or  a  feeling.  Each  of  these 
must,  in  the  order  of  nature,  be  given  before  the  idea  of 
personal  identity,  and  this  must  be  before  that  of  causa 
tiou.     In  regard  to  these  we  judge  others  by  ourselves^ 


GRADATION  OP  INTUITIONS.  161 

and  have  a  right  to.  We  believe  that  every  event  must 
have  a  cause ;  we  know  that  others  believe  it  also,  and 
have  a  right  to  treat  them  as  if  they  did,  even  if  they 
should  deny  it. 

The  ideas  and  beliefs  which  come  to  us  thus  may 
be  divided  into  first,  mathematical  ideas  and  axioms. 
These  are  at  the  foundation  of  the  abstract  sciences,  hav- 
ing for  their  subject  quantity.  In  the  secpnd  division 
are  those  which  pertain  to  mere  being  and  its  relations. 
Upon  these  rest  all  sciences  pertaining  to  actual  being  and 
its  relations;  The  third  division  comprises  those  which 
pertain  to  beauty.  These  are  at  the  foundation  of  sestheti- 
cal  science.  In  the  fourth  division  are  those  which  pertain 
to  morals  and  religion.  Of  these  the  pervading  element  is 
the  sense  of  obligation  or  duty.  Of  this  the  idea  neces- 
sarily arises  in  connection  with  the  choice  by  a  rational 
being  of  a  supreme  end,  and  with  the  performance  of 
actions  supposed  to  bear  upon  that. 

Here,  again,  as  formerly,  we  find  gradation.  According 
to  the  principles  then  laid  down,  abstract  science  is  lower 
than  that  of  being ;  that  of  being,  considered  simply,  is 
lower  than  that  of  being  in  its  beauty ;  and  this  is  lower 
than  that  of  being  self-directed  and  seeking  its  end  under 
a  sense  of  duty.  In  the  science  of  being  abstract  science 
is  implied  ;  in  the  science  of  beauty  that  of  being,  and  the 
highest  beauty  is  possible  only  in  connection  with  duty 
done.  Here  each  higher  implies  the  lower,  but  not  the 
reverse. 

Of  ideas  and  beliefs  thus  given,  those  that  are  moral  are 
80  peculiar  that  philosophers  have  properly  attributed  their 
origin  to  what  they  have  called  the  moral  or  spiritual  rea- 
son. This  is  reason,  and  something  more,  else  it  would 
not- be  moral.  This  something  more  comes  from  its  com- 
u* 


162  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

plexity  as  higher  than  mere  primitive  cognition  or  rational 
intuition.  In  the  first  two  classes  of  intellectual  products 
above  mentioned,  the  intellectual  element  is  almost  sole. 
In  the  third  there  is  the  synthesis  of  a  rational  product 
with  that  of  sensibility.  But  here,  not  only  intellect  and 
feeling  are  involved,  as  in  the  mere  contemplation  of  the 
beautiful,  the  will  is  also  reached.  The  idea  of  obligation 
is  nothing  except  as  there  is  in  it  not  only  feeling,  but  a 
requisition  upon  the  will.  As  a  product  of  the  moral 
reason  is  an  idea,  there  is  in  it  intellect ;  as  it  is  an  idea  of 
obligation,  there  is  in  it  feeling;  and  as  this  feeling  is  that 
of  an  imperative  upon  the  will,  it  is  clear  that  in  a  normal 
state  the  activity  of  the  moral  reason  would  involve  that 
of  the  whole  man.  It  is  as  nearly  a  synthesis  of  intellect, 
feeling,  and  will,  as  is  possible,  and  leave  the  will  free. 
Between  ideas  of  the  moral  reason  and  others  there  is  the 
same  difference  as  between  a  cannon-ball  that  is  heated 
and  one  that  is  not.  They  do  not  lie  still  and  cold,  but 
respect  action,  and  are  of  such  a  nature  that  we  cannot  be 
indifferent  to  them. 

This  coalescence  of  ideas  and  affections,  this  fusion  and 
blending  of  them  so  that  it  is  possible  to  give  them  but  a 
single  name,  together  with  their  immediate  proximity  to 
the  will,  is  a  characteristic  of  the  moral  nature  that  has  not 
been  sufficiently  noticed.  In  it  w^e  have  moral  ideas  and 
moral  affections  interpenetrating  and  moulding  each  other, 
and  thus  a  combination,  as  of  light  and  heat,  that  is  the 
highest  possible.  As  the  product  of  the  moral  reason, 
these  ideas  and  the  accompanying  feelings  arise  necessarily 
in  all  men ;  if  they  did  not,  we  should  not  have  a  moral 
nature ;  and  because  the  moral  reason  is  reason  and  some- 
thing more,  it  raises  us,  according  to  our  principle  of  classi 
fication,  to  the  highest  grade  of  earthly,  and,  indeed,  of 


WILL.  16S 

conceivable  existence.  It  will  thus  be  seen,  too,  that  moral 
science  must  find  its  basis,  not  in  any  considerations  of 
outward  utility,  or  perception  of  external  relatic  ns,  but  in 
the  deepest  and  most  fundamental  intuitions  of  our  nature. 

The  power  by  which  moral  ideas  are  thus  originated, 
originated  by  necessity,  so  that  they  spring  up  from  the 
depths  of  our  being,  together  with  the  emotion  that  ac- 
companies and  forms  a  part  of  them,  is  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  personality.  It  is  not  something  which  the  person 
may  use,  but  which  being  withdrawn,  personality  would 
remain ;  it  enters  into  its  very  framework.  This  is  that 
by  which  we  are  especially  made  in  the  image  of  God. 
It  is  the  organ  of  rational  and  spiritual  intuitions.  It  is 
not  exhausted  by  those  ideas  which  all  men  must  have  that 
they  may  be  men,  but  being  held  in  right  relations,  it  is 
capable  of  receiving,  and  in  the  progress  of  the  man  is 
necessitated  to  receive,  new  and  higher  ideas,  still  having 
the  same  characteristics  of  universality  and  necessity  for 
all  who  reach  the  same  point. 

We  saw  in  the  third  lecture  how  man  is  connected  with 
all  that  is  below  him,  through  the  laws  that  govern  all 
below,  and  extend  up  to  him.  We  now  reach  the  point  at 
which  he  is,  or  has  the  capacity  to  be,  connected  with  that 
which  is  above  him.  As  rational  and  in  the  image  of  God 
he  must  have,  in  kind,  the  capacities  of  the  very  highest 
creature,  and  be  subject  to  every  fundamental  law  of  the 
spiritual  world.  The  laws  of  that  world  reach  down  to 
him,  as  those  of  the  world  below  reach  up. 

After  reason  the  next  element  of  personality  and  con- 
dition of  moral  action  is  a  Rational  Will,  —  a  Will  in  Free- 
dom, i^ 

Without  freedom  of  some  kind,  connected  with  an  act 
at  some  point,  all  are  agreed  that  there  can  be  no  obliga* 


164  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tion  or  responsibility.  A  man  is  not  responsible  for  the 
movement  of  the  earth  in  its  orbit,  because  it  has  no  con- 
nection of  any  kind  with  his  will.  To  awaken  a  sense  of 
obligation  in  regard  to  anything  which  has  thus  no  con- 
nection with  the  will,  direct  or  indirect,  proximate  or 
remote,  is  impossible.  When,  therefore,  we  see  a  man  per- 
form an  act  that  we  call  moral,  the  element  of  will  and  of 
choice  is  presupposed. 

By  some,  by  most  indeed,  this  element  of  will  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  chief  one  in  personality,  and  there  are 
those  who  regard  it  as  the  only  one.  Others  again  think 
of  it  as  the  executive  of  a  person  already  constituted.  To 
me  it  seems  that  the  moral  ideas  that  are  given  by  reason, 
in  the  light  of  which  we  choose  and  act,  through  which, 
indeed,  the  will  is  a  rational  instead  of  a  brute  will,  are 
quite  as  necessary  to  personality  as  the  power  of  clioosing 
and  acting,  and  that  both  are  indispensable. 

But  with  these  two,  —  reason  and  free  will,  including 
moral  ideas  and  aflfections,  and  so  conscience,  —  whatever 
we  may  think  of  the  part  that  belongs  to  each,  we  have 
the  a  priori  elements  of  personality,  and  so  the  power  of 
doing  a  moral  act. 

I  have  spoken  of  personality  as  composed  of  elements. 
It  seemed  necessary  to  speak  thus ;  and  yet  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  our  idea  of  a  person  is  simple.  Aperson  is 
something  more  than  reason  and  will.  We  get  misty  and 
lose  ourselves  by  always  using  abstract  terms  and  the 
pames  of  attributes.  A  person  is  a  substance,  a  being  that 
has  reason  and  will.  Here  we  reach  an  agent,  and  the 
true  point  of  responsibility,  —  the  man  himself.  It  i.«  the 
man  himself,  the  person,  the  self,  the  ego,  the  me,  whatever 
you  please  to  term  it,  that  we  hold  responsible  and  praise 
or  blame.     It  is  this  mysterious  —  mysterious  as  all  things 


CONDITIONS  OF  A  MORAL  ACT.  165 

are  that  are  simple  —  this  mysterious  and  inscrutable  per- 
son, this  self-conscious,  thinking,  conaprehending,  electing 
being, — it  is  the  man  himself  that  we  approve  or  disap- 
prove. Aside  from  their  origin  in  him,  actions  have  no 
moral  quality.  Constitutional  tendencies,  desires,  affec- 
tions, have  no  moral  character  till  he  adopts  them,  and 
consents,  or  elects  that  tbey  shall  move  in  a  particular 
direction. 

Of  a  person  thus  constituted  the  three  characteristics 
are  that  he  is  rational,  free,  and  moral.  Such  a  being  may 
perform  acts  merely  instinctive ;  but  as  the  moral  reason, 
with  its  necessary  products  of  moral  ideas  and  affections, 
enters  as  an  element  into  the  conception  of  pei*sonality,  it 
can  never  be  optional  with  him  whether  he  will  have  a 
moral  character.  He  must  have  one  involving  the  very 
essence  of  his  being,  and  his  only  option  is  whether  it  shall 

be  good  or  bad.  C^'-t^/tr 

We  have  now  the  powers  prerequisite  to  a  moral  act. 
But  there  is  another  condition.  A  moral  act  must  be 
also  rational,  and  as  such  must  have  reference  to  an  end. 
This  necessity  which  a  rational  being  is  under  of  acting 
with  reference  to  an  end,  so  that  his  doing  this  is  a  test  of 
his  rationality,  would  seem  to  imply  that  his  conception  of 
an  end  is  the  fundamental  one  for  man  as  an  active  being. 
As  has  been  said,  the  ideas  of  reason  have  a  history  and  an 
order.  For  man,  as  speculative,  the  idea  of  existence  is 
first.  It  is  implied  in  all  assertions  respecting  identity 
and  causation.  In  the  same  way,  the  idea  of  an  end  in- 
volving a  good  is  implied  in  all  acts  of  rational  choice. 
As  a  will,  rational  and  free,  is  essential  to  morality,  so  must 
everything  be  that  is  a  prerequisite  of  the  action  of  such 
a  will.  But  to  a  free  and  rational  act  of  willing,  the  con- 
ception of  an  end  is  necessary.    The  moral  sentiment,  or 


166.  Lectures  on  moral  science. 

conssience,  is  evolved  only  in  connection  with  the  action 
of  free  will  with  reference  to  an  end.  This  may,  therefore, 
be  considered  as  the  fundamental  and  primitive  conception 
of  man  as  active  and  moral. 

But  if  reason  would  act  reasonably  it  must  not  only 
know  an  end,  but  its  own  end.  Would,  then,  a  rational 
being  naturally  know  his  own  end,  or  what  he  ought  to 
choose  ?  If  not,  he  would  be  lost.  Without  a  capacity 
for  this,  such  a  being  would  be  an  absurdity.  The  grop- 
ings  of  a  baffled  instinct  would  be  nothing  in  compari- 
son with  his  blindness  and  helplessness.  This  end  may  be 
known,  either  from  the  insight  of  reason,  or  from  reve- 
lation ;  but  however  known,  there  must  be  a  capacity  in 
reason  to  recognize  its  own  end;  and  the  test  of  such  an 
end  as  adequate  must  be  that  it  shall  always  suffice  to 
call  forth  the  highest  normal  activity  of  the  highest  powers. 
In  anything  short  of  this  a  want  would  be  felt.  In  such  an 
end,  if  we  consider  the  capacities,  the  worth  and  grandeur 
of  spiritual  being,  there  may  be  an  infinite  good.  There 
may  and  must  be  that  which  should  cause  it  to  be  adopted 
by  the  whole  energy  of  the  will. 

We  have  now  the  prerequisites  for  a  moral  act.  We 
have  a  person  knowing  his  end.  But  a  rational  being 
knowing  his  end  cannot  but  know  his  law,  since  the  law  is 
revealed  in  the  end.  Thus,  and  thus  only,  can  he  become 
"  a  law  to  himself."  It  is  in  the  apprehension  by  a  person 
of  his  end  that  the  moral  nature  manifests  itself  in  the 
immediate  and  necessary  affirmation  of  obligation  to 
choose  that  end.  This  is  the  moral  law,  and  the  whole  of 
it.  It  is  wholly  spiritual,  simply  requh-ing  choice.  Lying 
in  immediate  proximity  to  the  will,  it  cannot  become  a 
rule ;  no  means  can  be  used ;  and  nothing  but  a  want  of 
will  car  prevent  its  being  obeyed.     Obligation  to  choose 


HOLINESS.  167 

the  end  is  affirmed  in  view  of  it  as  good ;  and  such  a  choice 
is  approved  as  right. 

It  is  here  that  we  find  the  point  of  coalescence  between 
intuitional  or  a  priori  systems  of  morality,  and  those  that 
are  inductive.  At  some  point  these  must  come  together, 
for  it  is  impossible  that  the  great  thinkers  in  either  line 
should  be  wholly  wrong.  The  intuitional  element  here 
finds  its  sphere  in  the  immediate  recognition  by  reason  of 
its  own  end,  and  in  the  necessary  affirmation  of  obligation 
to  choose  that  end.  The  practical  nature,  asking,  "Who 
will  show  me  any  good  ?  "  is  also  satisfied,  because  the  end 
thus  chosen  is  a  good,  and  the  good ;  and  because  there  is 
in  all  questions  of  right  a  constant  call  for  the  activity  of 
the  inductive  powers,      ^r— 

By  some  beings  it  may  be  that  their  true  end  alone  is 
seen  and  embraced.  They  may  know  no  other  as  possible, 
and  so  never  be  tempted.  But  for  others  there  is  an 
alternative  so  presented  that  there  must  be  a  choice  be- 
tween this  end  and  its  opposite.  Let  now  the  true  end  be 
chosen,  and  the  star  finds  its  orbit ;  there  is  moral  order, 
there  is  peace,  there  is  "joy  in  heaven." 

Choosing  thus  his  end,  with  an  apprehension  of  the  worth 
of  spiritual  being,  with  a  consciousness  of  worthiness  in 
having  thus  chosen,  such  a  being  would  move  on  in  peace, 
—  not  the  peace  of  quiescence,  but  of  a  tranquil  and  deep 
joy,  —  till  there  should  arise  from  within  or  from  without 
some  disturbing  influence  that  might  come  between  him 
and  his  end.  Then,  in  proportion  to  his  sense  of  the 
worth  of  the  end,  and  of  the  obligation  to  choose  and 
seek  it,  must  be  his  abhorrence  and  condemnation  of  an 
opposite  choice,  and  his  opposition  to  anything  that  would 
divorce  him  from  his  end.  Hence  virtue  is  necessarily 
bi-po!ar.      As  piicIi,  it  Ix^fomos  holiness.     This  is  reason 


168  lectuees  on  moral  science. 

vindicating  its  right  to  attain  its  end.  It  is  personality- 
expressing  its  sense  of  the  A'alue  of  its  end,  now  in  com- 
placency with  it,  and  with  all  that  would  promote  it,  and 
now  in  indignation  and  opposition  towards  all  that  would, 
oppose  it.  From  the  evolution  on  the  one  side  comes 
all  that  is  mild  and  winning  in  virtue ;  from  that  on  the 
other  all  that  is  stern  and  awful.  It  is  by  the  term  holi- 
ness—  that  is,  wholeness  —  that  this  double  aspect,  and  so 
the  completeness  of  virtue,  is  best  expressed. 

That  the  above  may  not  seem  opposed  to  our  conscious- 
ness, it  may  be  well  to  state  that  in  choosing  a  supreme 
end  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  know  or  choose  it 
abstractly  and  formally,  but  simply  that  our  individual 
and  specific  choices  should  involve  it,  and  be  instances 
under  it.  So  it  is  that  we  know  and  act  under  the  idea  or 
principle  of  causation,  and  so  under  mathematical  axioms. 
The  act  of  a  child  may  involve  the  axiom  that  the  whole 
is  equal  to  the  sum  of  all  its  parts,  and  yet  the  child  may 
never  have  heard  of  the  axiom,  and  in  that  form  could  not 
comprehend  it. 

In  thus  choosing  a  supreme  end,  if  that  end  be  the  good 
of  others,  we  reach  the  highest  significance  of  the  word 
love.  This  is  an  act  both  of  the  affections  and  the  will, 
and  carries  every  faculty  and  choice  of  the  soul  along  with 
it.  In  it  the  man  disposes  of  himself.  It  lies  back  of 
specific  choices  and  volitions,  and  determines  character. 
Springing  from  a  synthesis  of  the  rational  sensibility  and 
the  will,  it  is  the  highest  product  of  our  highest  powers, 
—  the  consummate  flower  of  our  existence. 

From  what  has  been  said  above,  we  shall  readily  see 
what  that  form  of  activity  is  to  which  responsibility  ulti- 
mately attaches.  It  is  not  volition  regarded  simply  as  an 
executive  act ;  it  is  preference.    It  is  that  immanent  act  of 


THE   POINT   OF  RESPONSIBILITt.  169 

preference  in  wliich  we  dispose  of  ourselves,  and  on  which 
character  depends.  It  is  this  that  gives  its  set  to  the  cur- 
rent of  the  soul,  and  determines  the  character  of  subse- 
quent specific  acts  of  preference  and  volition  under  it.  It 
is  an  act  of  will,  as  distinguished  from  the  feelings.  It  is 
either  that  impartial  love  which  is  commanded  by  the 
moral  law ;  or  a  giving  up  of  the  soul  to  be  governed  by 
the  propensities.  It  is  at  this  point  that  we  find  moral 
freedom.  That  the  ultimate  point  of  responsibility  must 
rest  here,  appears  from  the  effect  of  such  a  preference  in 
controlling  the  thoughts  and  modifying  the  feelings,  and, 
as  thought  and  feeling  act  and  react  upon  each  other,  in 
changing  the  very  principles  of  association.  Nothing  is  so 
cunning  of  fence  as  such  an  underlying  preference  when 
anything  would  interfere  with  it.  As  already  intimated, 
it  may  so  control  the  laws  of  evidence  as  perceived  by 
us,  that  a  man  shall  really  believe  and  act  upon  a  lie,  and 
mistake  the  reality  of  such  belief  for  that  genuine  sincer- 
ity and  coming  to  the  light  of  which  x)ur  Saviour  speaks. 
Hence  it  is  that  a  man  may  verily  think  that  he  is  doing 
God  service  while  he  is  persecuting  his  people,  and  doing 
bis  utmost  to  overthrow  his  cause  in  the  earth. 

The  word  "intention"  is  often  used  by  moralists  to  in- 
dicate what  is  ultimate  when  they  would  reach  the  source 
of  morality ;  but  it  does  not  do  this.  Intention  refers  to 
specific  volition,  and  implies  an  opportunity,  real  or  sup- 
posed, to  caiTy  out  the  intention.  Hatred  of  a  person 
whom  we  were  sure  we  never  could  reach  would  not  be  an 
intention,  nor  would  it  give  rise  to  any  intention  of  injur- 
ing him.  All  intentions  that  indicate  character  spring 
from  some  form  of  settled  preference,  which  may  multiply 
itself  in  such   intentions  without  number  or  exhaustion. 


170  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Hence  this  preference,  wliich  in  the  Scriptures  is  called 
the  heart,  is  compared  to  a  fountain.   Ajyi/i/  ^ 

At  this  point  there  seems  to  be  a  general  agreement 
among  writers  on  morals  on  three  things :  — 

The  iirst  is,  that  man  is  responsible  for  his  preferences, 
his  choices,  the  acts  of  his  will  generally,- — for  these  and 
their  results,  —  and  for  nothing  else.  It  will  be  found  that 
those  writers,  as  Edwards,  who  speak  of  man  as  respon- 
sible for  the  affections  or  heart,  either  regard  these  as 
synonymous  with  will,  or  as  a  part  of  it.  Says  Edwards, 
"The  will  and  the  affections  of  the  soul  are  not  two  facul- 
ties; the  affections  are  not  essentially  distinct  from  the 
will."  There  are,  indeed,  some  whose  language  might  lead 
us  to  suppose  that  they  hold  to  an  inherent  moral  quality 
in  affections  that  are  purely  spontaneous ;  but  on  reflection 
it  will  be  found  impossible  to  attach  responsibility  to  a 
being  incapable  of  rational  preference,  and  so  of  the  choice 
of  an  end. 

It  is  agreed,  in  the  second  place,  that  there  is  a  broad 
distinction  between  what  is  called,  sometimes  an  imma- 
nent preference,  sometimes  a  governing  purpose,  some- 
times an  ultimate  intention,  and  those  volitions  which  are 
merely  executive,  and  precede  specific  acts  under  such  a 
pur2:)ose. 

In  the  third  place,  it  is  agreed  that  character  is  as  the 
governing  preference  or  purpose  —  that  it  consists  in  an 
original  and  thorough  determination  by  a  man  of  himself 
with  reference  to  some  end  chosen  by  him  as  supreme. 

In  connection  with  the  choice  of  a  supreme  end  all  the 
phenomena  of  a  moral  life  are  evolved.  In  view  of  the 
end  there  arises,  as  has  been  said,  a  sense  of  obligation  to 
choose  it.  From  these  two  arise  the  idea  of  moral  law ; 
for  moral  law  is  the  affirmation  by  reason  of  the  obliga- 


MERIT  AND  DEMERIT.  Itl 

tion  to  act  rationally.  A  divine  law  is  the  same  law  pro- 
claimed by  the  authority  of  the  Infinite  Reason,  and  accom- 
panied by  sanctions.  So  is  it  that  while  the  man  is  a  law 
to  himself,  the  divine  law  is  recognized  at  once  as  the  law 
of  the  inner  life;  and  so  will  its  full  revelation,  if  the  inner 
law  has  become  obscured,  be  but  as  the  clear  light  of  day 
after  the  dim  twilight.  It  will  not  be  a  thing  wholly  new 
and  strange,  but  homogeneous,  and  but  the  increase  and 
fulness  of  "that  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh 
into  the  world."  It  is  into  this  light  that  men  may  come 
more  fully  and  walk  in  purity,  or  they  may  withdraw  from 
it,  and  walk  in  darkness. 

After  the  ideas  of  obligation  and  of  law,  must  arise  those 
of  merit  or  demerit,  of  self-approbation  or  of  self-condem- 
nation, as  the  true  end,  or  its  alternative,  has  been  chosen. 
Merit  and  demerit  are  supposed  to  arise  chiefly  in  connec- 
tion with  something  done  outwardly,  but  if  the  end  be 
chosen  with  a  paramount  affection,  as  a  supreme  end  must 
be,  outward  acts  according  with  the  choice  will  follow  of 
course.  These  simply  indicate  .the  strength  of  the  inward 
principle,  and  in  that  is  the  only  merit. 

Again,  in  a  sense  of  merit  or  demerit  there  is  not  only 
a  present  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction,  but  a  promise  or  a 
threat  for  the  future,  and  these  may  become  elements  of 
great  power.  We  thus  get  the  notion  of  reward  and  pun- 
ishment, and  through  these  of  responsibility,  for,  if  there 
were  no  reward  and  no  punishment,  there  could  be  no  re- 
sponsibility. It  is  at  this  point  that  the  moral  nature  of 
man  is  connected  with  the  govemment  of  God  as  out- 
wardly revealed.  If  there  were  no  consequences  of  acts 
in  the  way  of  rewards  and  punishments  through  the  will 
of  another  we  could  not  be  under  the  government  of  tliat 
other,  or  responsible  to  him ;  and  if  those  consequences 


172  LECTURES  ON   MORAL  SCIENCE. 

sbould  have  no  reference  to  merit  or  demerit,  the  govern 
ment  could  not  be  moraL 

Thus  do  we  find,  in  immediate  connection  with  the 
choice  of  a  supreme  end,  the  ideas  of  obligation  and  of 
moral  law,  of  merit  and  demerit,  of  reward  and  punish- 
ment, and  of  responsibility.  We  find  also  the  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong.  Properly  these  are  always  relative,  ex- 
pressing either  fitness  or  unfitness,  and  having  reference  to 
an  end.  As  such  they  are  secondary;  but  they  imply  a 
moral  quality  when  they  indicate  the  fitness  or  unfitness 
of  specific  moral  acts,  or  of  the  fundamental  position  of 
the  heart  with  reference  to  the  true  and  supreme  end. 

As  the  ideas  and  feelings  just  mentioned  arise  in  our 
minds,  a  tribunal  will  be  erected  within  us  by  which  we 
shall  be  compelled  to  judge  ourselves,  and  by  which  we 
shall  also  judge  others  in  accordance  with  what  we  sup- 
pose to  be  the  character  of  their  radical  choices.  Without 
such  a  tribunal,  and  power  and  necessity  of  judgment,  our 
moral  nature  would  not  be  complete.  There  would  be  no 
answering  of  face  to  face,  and  we  should  not  be  linked  in 
sympathy  with  the  one  great  community  of  moral  beings. 

As  illustrating  the  gradation  and  classification  of  ideas 
heretofore  referred  to,  it  may  be  well  to  say,  at  this  point, 
that  the  highest  forms  and  ideas  of  beauty  and  subhmity 
are  also  evolved  as  subsidiary,  in  connection  with  the 
choice  of  a  supreme  end  and  its  results.  In  all  working  of 
unconscious  and  involuntary  powers  towards  their  end,  and 
the  facile  mastery  by  them  of  the  material  to  be  used  and 
the  obstacles  to  be  overcome,  there  is  beauty.  Virtue  is 
the  same  thing  when  the  powers  are  conscious  and  volun- 
tary. Hence  their  deep  affinity.  There  is  no  beauty  of  a 
ship  with  every  sail  set,  speeding  its  way  over  the  subjjct 
element  to  its  haven,  that  can  be  compared  with  that  of 


CONSCIENCB.  173 

the  organized  powers  of  man  acting  in  harmony,  —  those 
ruling  that  ought  to  rule,  and  those  serving  that  ought  to 
serve,  and  all  conspiring  to  their  destined  end ;  nor  is  any 
storm  in  nature  so  sublime  as  the  conflicts  that  may  arise 
when  temptation  and  opposition  come  between  a  true- 
hearted  man  and  the  attainment  of  his  end. 

It  is  somewhere  in  connection  with  the  central  act  of 
choice  now  spoken  of  that  conscience  must  be  found. 
Of  the  discrepancy  there  is  in  the  views  respecting  con- 
science, I  spoke  in  the  fii*st  lecture.  This  discrepancy  can- 
not be  removed  at  once,  if  at  all.  It  arises  from  the 
intimate  blending  there  is  in  this  higher  nature  of  the 
powers  of  knowing  and  of  feeling,  so  that  we  may  and 
do  call  the  product  indifferently  an  idea  or  a  feeling. 
Thus  we  say,  the  idea  of  obligation,  and  the  feeling  of 
obligation.  Hence  some  have  regarded,  and  probably  will 
continue  to  regard,  conscience  as  comprising  the  whole 
moral  nature.  "  The  moral  nature  of  man,"  says  Dr.  Alex- 
andei',  of  Edinburgh,  in  a  learned  article  recently  pub- 
lished in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  —  "the  moral  na- 
ture of  man  is  summed  up  in  the  word  conscience.  Moral 
nature  and  conscience  are  two  names  of  the  same  thing. 
The  analysis  of  conscience,  therefore,  will  unfold  man's 
moral  nature."  I  prefer  a  view  which  makes  the  opera- 
tion of  our  moral  nature  more  analogous  to  those  of  the 
other  departments  of  our  complex  being.  In  all  of  them 
there  was  original  provision  for  the  right  performance  of 
their  work;  for  a  recognition  of  the  character  of  that  per- 
formance as  normal  or  otherwise ;  and  in  that  recognition 
for  a  sense  of  satisfaction  or  the  reverse,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  reward  or  punishment.  So  with  the  moral 
nature.  It  was  intended  that  it,  or  rather  the  pei-sou, 
should  work  in  accordance  with  his  law.    If  he  does  so, 

16* 


174  '  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

there  is  in  it  a  testifying  state  that  is  not  only  recognition, 
but  approbation  and  reward.  If  he  does  not,  there  is  also 
a  testifying  state  that  is  disapprobation  and  punishment. 
Conscience,  then,  will  involve  a  recognition  by  the  person 
of  the  moral  quality  of  his  own  acts  or  states,  and  the 
feelings  consequent  upon  such  recognition.  It  may  be 
defined  as  that  function  of  the  moral  reason  by  which  it 
affirms  obligation  before  the  act,  by  which  it  approves  or 
disapproves  after  the  act,  and  by  which  it  indicates  future 
reward  or  punishment.  Here,  high  as  it  is,  we  still  see  in 
it  an  analogy  to  appetite.  In  that,  as  in  hunger,  there  is 
both  impulse  and  discrimination,  and  there  is  subsequent 
pleasure  or  the  reverse.  To  the  prophetic  power  of  con- 
science, however,  appetite  has  nothhig  analogous.  Con- 
science will  then  reveal  itself  as,  1st.  Obligatory.  2d. 
Judicial.  3d.  Prophetic.  There  will  be,  first,  tlie  affirma- 
tion of  obligation  before  the  act ;  second,  the  excusing  or 
accusing  by  one  another  of  the  thoughts  after  the  act ;  and, 
third,  a  promise  or  threat  that  becomes,  on  the  one  hand, 
a  hope  of  eternal  life,  or,  on  the  other,  "  a  certain  fearful 
looking  for  of  judgment." 

By  many,  by  most,  conscience  is  regarded  as  a  separate 
faculty,  and,  as  has  been  said,  the  whole  of  the  moral  na- 
ture. I  prefer  to  say,  as  above,  that  it  is  a  function  of  the 
moral  reason.  Besides  affirming  obligation  to  choose  the 
true  supreme  end,  the  moral  reason  is  that  in  the  light  of 
which  it  is  chosen.  It  is  that  by  which  that  end  is  recog- 
nized as  supreme.  The  aflirmation  of  obligation,  as  above 
stated,  is  what  many  mean  by  the  apprehension  of  an  ulti- 
mate right. 

On  this  subject  writers  generally  begin  by  assuming  that 
there  are  actions  having  a  moral  quality,  and  regard  the 
conscience  or  moral  nature  as  that  by  which  we  perceive 


DOtJBLE  FUNCTION   OP  MORAL  NATURE.  175 

and  become  affected  by  that  quality.  But  whence  came  the 
moral  act  ?  From  a  moral  being  certainly ;  and  we  should 
naturally  suppose  that  those  capacities  by  which  a  being 
could  originate  an  act  having  a  moral  quality  would  be 
the  leading  part  of  his  moral  nature,  rather  than  that  by 
which  he  should  perceive  and  become  affected  by  the 
moral  quality  after  it  Avas  originated.  Is  our  moral  nature 
that  only  by  which  we  approve  and  condemn  ?  Or  is  it 
that  also  by  which  we  originate  and  do  the  things  that  we 
approve  and  condemn  ?  We  love  God.  By  an  act  of  our 
moral  nature  we  apjDrove  ourselves  in  so  doing.  Is  it  by 
an  act  of  our  moral  nature  that  we  love  him  ?  I  suppose 
it  is.  We  do  not  love  God  because  we  are  under  obliga- 
tion to,  except  as  his  worth  and  worthiness  impose  the  ob- 
ligation. We  love  him  impartially  because  of  his  worth, 
and  complacently  because  of  his  worthiness ;  and  such  love 
is  from  our  moral  nature,  but  not  from  conscience.  If  the 
states  or  forms  of  activity  judged  did  not  have  a  moral 
quality  they  could  not  be  approved  or  condemned,  and 
they  belong  to  our  moral  nature  in  virtue  of  their  having 
a  moral  quality.  That  also  by  which  we  judge  belongs  to 
our  moral  nature  because  it  judges  of  moral  quality. 

In  the  order  of  nature  there  must  be  a  moral  being  be- 
fore there  can  be  a  moral  act.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
moral  being  is  a  person  having  moral  reason  and  the  moral 
ideas  and  affections  necessarily  originated  by  that,  together 
with  free  will,  which  is  implied  as  a  condition  for  the  forma- 
tion of  those  ideas.  In  these  is  personality  and  a  moral 
nature  —  the  capacity  of  doing  a  moral  act.  But  these  are 
not  conscience.  That  becomes  possible  only  when  there  is 
a  question  respecting  the  conformity,  future  or  past,  of  a 
being,  already  moral,  to  what  either  is,  or  is  supposed  t^ 
be  his  law. 


ltd  LECTUEES  ON  MOEAL  SCIENCE. 

A  moral  act  is  one  that  respects  the  supreme  end.  Any 
act  which  a  man  may  either  do  or  leave  undone,  and  still 
stand  in  precisely  the  same  relation  to  his  supreme  end,  is 
not  a  moral  act ;  and  the  moral  nature  will  comprise,  as 
I  have  said,  all  that  is  ultimately  directive  —  the  moral 
reason,  the  will,  the  personality,  the  man  himself,  that 
which  does  the  moral  act,  as  well  as  that  which  judges 
of  it. 

We  may,  then,  regard  the  whole  moral  nature  as  con- 
sisting of  those  powers  whose  activity  gives  the  moral 
quality,  and  also  of  those  which  judge  of  the  moral  qual- 
ity and  are  affected  by  it ;  and  it  would  conduce  to  per- 
spicuity if  the  term  conscience  could  be  confined  to  the 
latter. 

Of  the  moral  quality  itself  which  conscience  presup- 
poses, our  notion  is  simple,  as  of  color  or  extension.  We 
perceive  it  immediately  as  belonging  to  certain  states  of 
mind,  as  selfishness,  envy,  malignity,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  benevolence,  generosity,  and  kindness,  on  the  other. 
Relations  may  be  needed  to  evolve  the  acts,  but  it  is  from 
no  perception  of  them.  It  is  from  no  sense,  but  is  an  im- 
mediate knowledge,  by  the  spirit,  of  the  quality  of  its  own 
states  and  acts.  We  know  a  moral  act  as  moral  precisely 
as  we  know  an  intellectual  act  as  intellectual.  We  know 
an  intellectual  act  to  be  intellectual  because  it  is  an  act  of 
the  intellect ;  and  what  an  act  of  the  intellect  is,  and  that 
it  is  intellectual,  every  being  having  an  intellect  must 
know  intuitively  on  the  exercise  of  his  intellect,  and  he 
could  know  it  in  no  other  way.  Here  is  primitive  knowl- 
edge, without  which  no  definition  could  give  the  first  ele- 
ments of  the  knowledge  of  anything.  It  is  in  the  same 
way  that  a  moral  act  presupposes  a  moral  constitution,  and 
IS  known  to  have  a  moral  quality. 


CONSCIENCE  PROPHEnC.  177 

In  the  definition  of  conscience  the  prophetic  element 
requires  special  attention.  It  is  important  not  only  prac- 
tically, but  as  proving  the  being  of  a  personal  God,  and  as 
connecting  us  with  his  government.  Xot  only  would  it 
require  a  God  with  will  and  freedom,  and  an  apprehension 
of  moral  distinctions,  to  originate  a  creature  endowed  with 
these,  but  without  such  a  being  as  a  rewarder  and  pun- 
isher,  the  idea  of  reward  and  punishment  other  than  that 
which  is  natural  and  immediately  inflicted,  is  nugator3\ 
Witliout  such  a  being  it  w^ould  be  a  practical  absurdity  — 
an  eye  without  light,  a  part  in  nature  without  its  counter- 
part, a  falsehood  in  the  very  sanctuary  of  the  moral  nature 
of  man. 

In  strictness  I  suppose  the  office  of  conscience  to  be  to 
take  flDgnizance  of  our  own  moral  acts,  and  that  a  decision 
respecting  those  of  others  should  be  referred  to  the  judg- 
ment. That  this  is  its  proper  sphere  appears  from  the  fact 
that  conscience  was  not  originally,  in  our  own  language, 
and  is  not  now  in  some  others,  distinguished  from  con- 
sciousness. It  was  consciousness  par  eminence  ;  but  on  a 
subject  like  this,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  Hamiltpn's 
view  of  it,  consciousness  can  resjject  only  what  passes 
within  ourselves.  In  the  common  definitions  and  descrip- 
tions of  conscience,  powers  are  assigned  it,  as  tliat  of  im- 
pulsion, and  of  rewarding  and  punishing,  which  must  have 
reference  solely  to  our  own  acts.  This,  too,  would  seem  to 
be  the  scriptural  idea.  Paul  says  of  the  Gentiles,  "Which 
show  the  work  of  the  law  written  in  their  hearts,"  —  tli.\t 
is,  in  their  moral  nature,  —  "  their  conscience  also  hearing 
witness,  and  their  thoughts  meanwhile  accusing  or  else 
excusing  one  another."  In  all  this  there  must  have  been 
reference  solely  to  tlieir  own  acts. 

In  thus  finding  a  moral  nature,  and  so  a  person,  with  the 


178  LECTURES  ON   MORAL   SCIENCE. 

power  both  of  doing  moral  acts  and  of  judging  of  tliem, 
we  reach  the  highest  form  of  created  being.  It  is,  doubt- 
less, the  highest  possible,  since  there  is  in  it  the  image  of 
God,  who  is  himself  a  person.  We  reach  that  for  which 
all  else  is  a  condition,  and  which  has,  therefore,  over  all 
else,  as  below  it,  a  natural  supremacy.  By  a  natural  law 
*'  all  sheep  and  oxen,  yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and 
the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  the  fish  of  the  sea,"  are  put  "  under 
the  feet"  of  such  a  being.  In  the  same  way  everything  in 
his  own  system  that  is  physical,  or  animal,  or  merely  intel- 
lectual, must  either  be  in  subjection,  or  in  disorder  and 
rebellion.  We  now  reach  a  form  of  activity  that  is  a  con- 
dition for  nothing  within  the  system,  above  itself,  which 
has  in  itself  and  in  its  results  not  only  a  good,  but  the 
good,  and  the  supreme  good  for  man,  and  whicl^  can, 
therefore,  be  subject  to  no  law  of  limitation. 

In  the  exigencies  of  the  present  life  it  may  happen  that 
there  shall  be  not  only  limitations^  but  exceptions  to  the 
laws  of  every  subordinate  portion  of  the  system.  The 
laws  on  which  the  welfare  of  the  body  depends  may  be 
disregarded,  because  the  welfare  of  the  body  is  not  the 
highest  good.  There  may  be  virtue,  and  even  heroism,  in 
disregarding  them.  But  the  laws  of  the  moral  nature  can- 
not be  thus  disregarded.  Than  the  end  and  good  which 
these  laws  would  secure,  there  can  be  nothing  higher; 
there  can  therefore  be  no  law  to  which  these  can  give 
place;  they  can  be  subordinate  to  nothing,  are  always 
binding,  have  no  exceptions,  and  the  activity  under  them 
can  never  be  in  excess. 

Having  thus  reached  what  is  highest  in  man,  we  must,  in 
accordance  with  our  previous  discussions,  here  find  his  true 
end  and  good.  And  here  we  do  find  it  in  the  activity  of 
the  personality  according  to  its  law.     What  then  is  that 


NATURAL  AND  RE^T:ALED  LAW  IDENTICAL.     179 

law  ?  The  law  of  the  subordinate  faculties  is,  an  activity 
for  each  upon  its  appropriate  object  up  to  the  point  at 
which  it  would  interfere  with  some  higher  form  of  activity 
and  good.  l!^ow,  however,  there  can  bo  no  interference 
with  anything  higher.  The  law,  therefore,  of  the  highest 
faculties  will  be  their  highest  possible  form  and  degree  of 
activity  upon  their  appropriate  objects.  What,  then,  is  the 
highest  form  of  activity  of  which  we  are  capable  ?  By  a 
fair  analysis  this  has  been  shown  to  be  love.  What  are  the 
appropriate  objects  of  love  ?  They  are  God  and  our  neigh- 
bor. What  is  the  highest  possible  degree  of  this  love  ?  It 
is  the  love  of  God  with  all  the  heart,  and  of  our  neigh- 
bor as  ourselves. 

Here,  then,  do  we  have,  after  as  full  and  fair  an  examin- 
ation j«  I  could  give  it,  the  human  constitution  itself  utter- 
ing the  substance  of  that  law  which  was  spoken  in  thunder 
four  thousand  years  ago,  and  uttering,  because  it  is  impos- 
sible to  find  those  more  appropriate,  the  very  words  of 
Him  who  spoke  as  never  man  spoke,  when  he  gave  a  sum- 
mary of  that  law.  Wonderful  is  it  that  his  words  should 
be  the  exact  formula  for  the  expression  of  the  highest  pos- 
sible activity  of  the  highest  powere. 

Thus,  as  in  a  former  lecture  we  found  that  the  teachings 
inwrought  into  the  whole  frame-work  of  nature  were  in 
perfect  harmony  with  the  constitution  of  man,  so  do  we 
now  find  that  the  teachings  of  that  constitution  are  them- 
Belves  in  perfect  harmony  with  those  of  the  revealed  word 
of  God.  So  is  it  that  "deepcalleth  unto  deep."  So  is 
man  the  connecting  link  between  that  which  is  lowest  and 
that  which  is  highest. 

We  have  now  answered  the  three  questions  put  in  the 
second  lecture.  The  first  was.  What  ought  man  to  do  t 
The  answer  was,  To  choose  und  seek  the  end  for  which 


180  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

God  made  him.  The  second  was,  Why  ought  he  to  do  it? 
The  answer  was,  Because  of  the  intrinsic  good  there  is  in 
the  end.  The  third  was.  How  ought  he  to  do  it?  The 
answer  is.  By  the  highest  activity  of  his  lower  powers 
according  to  the  law  of  limitation ;  and  by  the  full  activity 
of  his  highest  powers  upon  their  appropriate  objects 
Does  any  one  inquire  more  especially  what  this  activity  is  ? 
The  answer  is.  Since  we  have  shown  the  moral  affections 
to  be  higher  than  the  intellect,  and  since  God  is  the  high- 
est and  only  adequate  object  of  the  affections,  that  it  can 
consist  only  in  the  supreme  love  of  God,  and  the  impartial 
love  of  man.  ^^  J 


;;rfn-Oj 


•fot  itVi'-y/^  oHj  sd     (I 


LECTURE    YIII. 

RELATION  OF  VIRTUE  TO  HAPPINESS.  — QUANTITY  AND  QUALITT  OF  OOOD. 
—  MORAi  AND  NATURAL  GOOD.  — REGARD  FOR  OUR  OWN  GOOD.  — CON- 
NECTION WITH  BENEVOLENCE.  — ENJOYMENT  FROM  APPROBATION.— 
THE  TRUE  END  OF  MAN. —CONNECTION  BETWEEN  MORAL  AND  NATURAL 
GOOD. 

The  identity  which  we  found  in  the  last  lecture  between 
the  teaching  of  the  constitution  of  man  and  the  law  of 
God  was  not  sought.  The  result  was  reached  because  the 
analysis  would  go  there.  I  was  myself  surprised  at  the 
exactness  of  the  coincidence.  The  formula  we  reached 
for  the  end  and  good  of  man  was  the  highest  possible 
activity  of  the  highest  powers  upon  their  appropriate 
objects.  Love  has  been  shown  to  be  the  highest  form  of 
activity ;  and  how  readily  and  perfectly  the  law  of  God 
takes  the  form  of  the  above  expression  will  be  seen  if  we 
observe  that  no  love  of  him  can  be  greater  than  that  with 
all  the  heart,  and  no  love  of  our  neighbor  can  be  greater 
than  that  we  should  love  him  as  ourselves. 

It  is  a  grand  and  beautiful  thing  thus  to  begin,  as  we 
have  done,  at  the  foundation  of  this  lower  creation,  and  to 
follow  it  upward  as  its  stories  rise  one  upon  another  till 
they  culminate  in  man,  and  then  to  hear  from  his  constitu- 
tion an  articulate  utterance  identical  with  an  utterance 
from  heaven  that  comes  down  to  meet  it.  So  is  man  fitted 
to  be  a  being,  as  Milton  says,  — 

♦•Commercing  with  tho  skies." 

The  teachings  of  the  constitution,  or  of  natural  law,  being 

16  181 


182  LECTURES   ON  MORAL   SCIENCE. 

thus  ideiititied  with  those  of  the  revealed  law,  it  would  ik)W 
be  in  order  to  go  on  and  evolve  the  specific  duties  that 
would  flow  from  this  law  as  applied  in  the  various  rela- 
tions of  life.  This  might  be  done,  as  it  generally  has  been, 
in  the  light  of  that  disposition  which  would  lead  us  to  do 
good  to  all  men ;  or,  more  properly,  as  more  in  accordance 
with  the  preceding  course  of  thought,  in  the  light  of 
ends.  The  duties  of  man  to  himself  and  to  God  would 
then  be  determined  in  the  light  of  his  end  as  a  creature  of 
God ;  his  duties  in  the  family  in  its  various  relations  would 
be  determined  by  the  end  of  the  family,  and  his  duties  to 
society  by  the  end  of  society.  And  this  it  was  my  pur- 
pose at  one  time  to  do  ;  but. that  would  be  beaten  ground ; 
the  time  would  not  be  adequate,  and  there  are  still  spec- 
ulative questions  of  interest,  that  are  also  practical,  that 
require  our  attention.  We  need  particularly  just  now  to 
analyze  this  love  with  reference  to  certain  general  concep- 
tions that  have  been  formed,  and  their  harmony  with  each 
other.  We  need  to  inquire  after  the  relations  to  each 
other  of  holiness  or  virtue,  and  happiness. 

The  revealed  law  is  practical.  It  applies  its  precepts 
directly  to  a  person  ;  it  says  thou ;  and  it  requires  duties 
to  be  performed  towards  persons.  The  objects  are  God 
and  our  neighbor.  But  the  mind  forms  necessarily  certain 
general  conceptions.  These  are  represented  by  general 
terms  having  no  reality  or  one  thing  in  nature  correspond- 
ing to  them,  but  simply  the  notion  as  it  is  formed  in  dif- 
ferent minds,  and  which  may  vary  much,  both  in  its  con- 
tent and  in  its  distinctness.  The  general  notion  of  prop- 
erty may  be  in  some  minds  clear,  in  others  indistinct;  in 
some  it  may  be  represented  by  land,  in  others  by  stocks. 
These  general  terms,  formed  by  abstraction,  and  thus  vary- 
ing  in    their   significance   in   different   minds,  have   been 


HOLINESS   AND  HAPPINESS.  183 

throwii  into  the  arena  of  discussion,  and  bandied  about 
endlessly.  So  will  they  continue  to  be;  the  terms,  as  we 
may  hope  and  believe,  becoming  in  the  mean  time  more 
definite,  the  conceptions  of  men  in  connection  with  them 
more  distinct,  and  their  relations  with  each  other  better 
established. 

Such  conceptions,  those  too  which  have  been  the  subject 
of  much  discussion,  we  shall  find  involved  in  the  general 
formula  already  reached.  Those  to  which  I  refer  .are  the 
conceptions  of  holiness  and  of  happiness.  What  is  needed 
is  that  these  should  be  uniform  and  distinct  in  the  minds 
of  men,  and  that  their  relations  to  each  other  should  be 
clearly  seen.  There  is  a  natural  feeling  that  virtue,  or 
holiness,  and  happiness  ought  to  be  united.  Moral  order 
seems  to  require  this.  In  this  world  they  appear  to  be 
often  separated,  and  hence  the  strangeness  of  that  state  in 
which  this  world  is. 

That  holiness  and  happiness  can  be  identified  as  objects 
of  pursuit  is  denied  by  Kant,  and  it  is  in  their  separation 
that  he  finds  what  he  calls  the  "  antinomy  "  of  the  practi- 
cal reason.  According  to  him  "  the  connection  between 
them  is  not  causal."  "Man  is  bound  to  pursue  virtue; 
man  cannot  but  pui-sue  happiness;  and  yet  neither  are 
these  identical,  nor  does  the  one  lead  to  the  other."  Of 
old  the  doctrine  of  the  Epicureans  was  that  "to  be  con- 
sciously influenced  by  maxims  that  lead  to  happiness,  is 
virtue."  The  doctrine  of  the  Stoics,  and  the  opposite  of 
this,  was,  that  "  to  be  conscious  of  virtue  is  hap])iness." 
*•  The  identificatioji  of  happiness  with  duty,"  says  Whe- 
well,  "  on  merely  philosophical  grounds,  is  a  question  of 
gi*eat  difticulty."  Possibly  our  past  discussions  may  throw 
eomc  light  on  this  point. 
In  estimating  enjoyment  or  good,  regard  must  be  had  to 


184  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

both  quantity  and  quality.  The  quantity  from  any  given 
susceptibility  or  power  will  be  as  its  normal  activity.  The 
quality  will  be  as  the  rank,  according  to  the  gradation  here- 
tofore indicated,  of  the  susceptibility  or  power.  There  are, 
I  know,  those  who  say  that  the  only  difference  in  respect 
to  enjoyment  is  in  degree.  So  Paley  thought.  They  say 
that  the  enjoyment  of  the  glutton  is  just  as  excellent  and 
valuable  as  that  of  the  saint  or  angel.  Do  you  believe 
this  ?  Do  you  think  that  any  amount  of  swinish  enjoy- 
ment could  be  weighed  against  one  hour  of  the  clear  com- 
prehension of  God  and  his  works,  and  of  sinless  and  fer- 
vent love  ?  I  greatly  mistake  if  there  be  not  in  the  com- 
mon consciousness  of  men,  as  there  is  expressed  in  their 
language,  a  feeling  of  gradation  in  respect  to  enjoyments 
that  corresponds  substantially  with  the  order  of  the  facul- 
ties as  heretofore  explained.  When,  however,  we  come  to 
the  moral  nature,  as  we  there  make  a  leap  in  respect  to 
the  order  of  the  faculties,  so  do  we  in  respect  to  the  kind 
of  enjoyment.  As  we  now  come  to  have  faculties  hke 
those  of  the  angels,  and  are  made  in  the  image  of  God,  so 
do  we  become  capable  of  enjoyments  like  those  of  the 
angels  and  of  God.  Between  such  enjoyment  and  that  of 
an  animal,  or  of  our  own  animal  nature,  there  is  as  much 
difference  in  dignity  and  worth  as  there  is  between  an 
angel  and  an  animal.  Here  only  do  we  find  moral  and 
spiritual  enjoyments ;  here  approbation  and  disaj^proba- 
tion ;  here  the  consciousness  of  worth. 

The  above  being  premised,  we  say  that  the  natural  law 
and  formula  for  the  highest  enjoyment  is  the  highest  pos- 
sible activity  of  the  highest  powers  upon  their  appropriate 
objects.  We  say,  also,  that  the  formula  for  virtue  is  the 
highest  normal  activity  of  the  moral  powers.  But  the 
mo  ml  powers  are  also  the  highest  2^owers,  and  hence  the 


MORAL  AND  NATURAL  GOOD.  185 

highest  enjoyment  must  be  in  and  from  the  same  activity 
in  which  virtue  consists.  If,  then,  they  may  not  be  said  to 
be  identical,  they  are  inseparably  connected  by  a  natural 
law,  as  much  so  as  the  light  is  with  the  sun.  It  is  one  of 
the  properties  and  characteristics  of  the  sun  by  which  we 
define  it,  and  as  God  made  it,  that  it  gives  forth  light;  and 
it  is  one  of  the  properties  and  characteristics  of  virtue  as 
wc  always  conceive  of  it,  and  as  God  intended  it  should 
be,  that  it  gives  forth  its  own  natural,  inseparable,  peculiar 
enjoyment.  It  is  an  enjoyment  that  belongs  to  it,  and 
inheres  in  it,  as  the  property  in  its  substance ;  so  that  the 
Stoics  were  right  in  saying  that  "the  consciousness  of 
virtue  is  happiness." 

This  brings  us  to  the  distinction  between  what  may 
be  called  moral  good  and  that  which  is  merely  natural. 
Moral  good  is  that  which  is  immediately,  and  by  a  natural 
law,  connected  with  the  normal  activity  of  the  moral  pow- 
ers; natural  good  is  that  which  comes  from  the  activity  of 
any  of  the  susceptibilities  or  powers  below  those  that  are 
moral.  They  are  alike  in  being  instances  under  the  gen- 
eral law  that  there  is  from  the  activity  of  each  faculty  its 
own  enjoyment ;  and  in  that  sense  both  are  natural ;  but 
what  I  have  called  moral  good  is  not  only  the  product 
of  the  moral  powers,  —  it  has  peculiarities  well  worthy  of 
notice,  and  such  as  to  fit  it  to  be  the  good  of  the  race. 

One  of  these  is  its  independence.  By  this  I  mean  that 
it  is  wholly  within  the  control  of  the  man  himself  This 
arises  from  the  fact  that  moral  good  is  from  the  direct 
activity  of  the  will  itself,  and  not  from  the  activity  of 
those  faculties  that  depend  on  the  will.  Tyranny  may  fet 
ter  the  limbs;  want  of  discipline  may  render  the  faculties 
indocile;  but  virtue  consists  in  the  voluntary  acts  them- 
selves, and  in  those  voluntary  dispositions  which  lead  to 


186  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

the  acts,  that  is,  in  the  activity  of  the  will.  This  is  central 
to  the  man.  It  is  the  man  himself  acting,  and  nothing  can 
come  between  him  and  it,  together  with  its  natural  results. 
It  is  not  these  results  that  are  meant  when  we  say  we  will 
do  right  and  leave  the  result  with  God.  These  we  con- 
ceive of  as  included  in  doing  right.  It  may  even  be 
doubted  whether,  moral  beings  existing,  the  results  could 
have  been  otherwise.  The  dispositions  and  volitions  are 
one  thing,  the  command  of  the  faculties  through  which 
these  express  themselves  is  another.  In  the  one  is  char- 
acter ;  in  the  other  ability.  Any  object  of  our  desires  we 
may  be  prevented  by  external  circumstances  from  obtain- 
ing ;  but  no  will  of  another,  no  violence  or  imprisonment, 
no  external  circumstance  can  come  between  a  man  and  his 
voluntary  dispositions,  together  with  the  blessedness  there 
may  be  from  their  activity. 

This  puts  the  highest  interest  of  every  man  into  his 
own  power.  If  he  have  confidence  in  God,  it  gives  him 
a  rational  ground  on  which  he  can  stand  and  be  a  martyr. 
Here  is  a  citadel  that  can  never  be  forced ;  if  it  surrender, 
the  man  himself  must  open  the  gates.  In  respect  to  this, 
the  exhortation  may  be  fairly  given  as  against  any  external 
influence,  "  Hold  that  fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man 
take  thy  crown."  It  is  in  this  power  of  man  thus  to  resist, 
in  his  allegiance  to  virtue  and  to  God,  all  solicitation  and 
all  violence,  that  his  true  greatness  is  found. 

It  is  at  this  point,  as  the  will  is  differently  related  to  the 
grounds  of  its  action,  that  moral  beauty  and  moral  sublim- 
ity arise.  When  the  propensities  and  faculties  yield  them- 
selves in  ready  and  glad  coincidence  with  the  virtuous 
will,  when  other  moral  agents  conspire  with  it,  and  nature 
is  accordant,  there  is  moral  beauty.  There  is  no  tempta- 
tion then,  and  the  current  of  the  soul  flows  on  without  a 


MORAL  GOOD.  187 

ripple.  But  when  the  propensities  and  faculties  are  refrac- 
tory, when  they  solicit  to  evil,  and  would  fain  rebel ;  when 
example  and  authority  are  against  us  so  that  integrity 
would  require  resistance  unto  death,  then,  if  the  will  re- 
main firm,  there  is  moral  sublimity.  In  the  one  case  the 
element  is  spontaneity,  consent,  and  harmony  of  action ; 
in  the  other  it  is  force,  struggle,  victory.  In  both  there  is 
a  sense  of  dignity,  of  freedom,  and  self-direction.  There 
is  the  joy  of  the  young  eagle  when  he  poises  himself  on 
his  own  pinions,  and  that  something  more  w^hich  the  eagle 
cannot  feel  that  is  involved  in  self-approbation  and  a  con- 
sciousness of  merit. 

This  leads  us  to  a  second  peculiarity  of  moral  good.  It 
is  that  it  is  necessarily  accompanied  by  a  sense  of  approba- 
tion. This  is  an  element  wholly  unknown  till  we  reach 
the  action  of  the  moral  powers.  Up  to  this  point  we  have 
a  pleasure  in  all  excellence ;  we  admire  it ;  but  when  we 
reach  moral  excellence,  admiration  becomes  approbation. 
This  gives  a  pleasure  entirely  distinct  from  that  naturally 
connected  with  moral  goodness.  In  the  love  of  God  or  of 
man  there  is  an  enjoyment  wholly  distinct  from  the  appro- 
bation. That  is  in  view  of  the  love,  and  subsequent  to  it. 
Love  and  hatred  have  in  them  respectively  the  elements 
of  happiness  and  of  misery,  aside  from  any  subsequent  act 
of  approbation  or  disapprobation.  It  is  in  these  subse- 
quent acts  that  we  find  a  consciousness  by  the  spirit  of  its 
own  state  as  it  is,  or  is  not  conformed  to  the  law  of  its 
being,  involving  a  feeling  of  self-approbation  and  hope,  or 
of  self-condemnation  and  of  an  indefinite  dread.  As  vir- 
tue is  in  the  states  and  acts  of  the  will,  so,  if  there  be 
candor,  the  eye  of  conscience  is  directly  fixed  upon  these 
states  and  acts;  and  so  distinct  at  times  do  these  senti- 
ments of  approval  and  condemnation  become  that  they 


188-  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Beem  like  the  product  of  a  second  personality  within  us, 
recording  our  deeds,  passing  sentence  upon  them,  and  giv- 
ing dim  forebodings  of  a  coming  and  more  perfect  judg- 
ment. This  is,  indeed,  the  great,  and  almost  the  only  evi- 
dence from  nature  of  a  future  retribution;  at  least,  it  is 
that  without  which  no  other  would  have  any  weight. 
Here,  then,  in  connection  with  moral  good,  we  have  a 
new  and  striking  element,  and  one  which  we  should  sup- 
pose could  hardly  fail  to  direct  men  to  that  as  their  chief 
good.  This  approbation  is  not,  as  is  sometimes  supposed, 
ihe  good  itself,  but  comes  in  as  the  accompaniment,  the 
ianction  and  heightener  of  that  good. 

A  third  peculiarity  of  moral  good  is  that  in  seekmg  it 
for  ourselves  we  necessarily  promote  the  good  of  others. 
We  thus  find  a  coalescence  of  what  is  called  self-love  with 
benevolence,  and  of  interest  with  duty.  In  this  perfect 
coalescence  and  harmony  is  the  point  of  reconciliation  be- 
tween what  have  been  called  the  selfish  and  the  benevolent 
systems  of  morals.  By  some  it  has  been  held  that  all  vir- 
tue has  its  origin  in  a  regard  for  our  own  good ;  by  some 
that  it  consists  in  a  regard  to  the  good  of  others.  The 
true  system  is  found  in  the  coincidence  of  the  two ;  and 
that  becomes  possible  only  from  the  peculiarity  of  moral 
good  now  mentioned. 

This  point  requires  attention,  not  only  because  different 
and  seemingly  opposite  systems  have  sprung  from  it,  but 
also  because  there  has  been  in  the  public  mind,  to  some  ex- 
tent, a  wrong  estimate  of  what  has  been  called  self-love,  or 
rather  of  the  right  and  the  duty  of  every  man  to  seek  his 
own  highest  good.  As  indicating  this  right  and  duty,  self- 
love  has  not  been  a  fortunate  term.  It  has  not  always 
been  clearly  distinguished  from  selfishness,  and,  if  not  posi- 
tively wrong,  has  been   supposed  to   be  less  noble  and 


Individual  good.  189 

worthy  than  benevolence.  Both  the  element  of  duty  that 
is  in  it,  which  ennobles  all  things,  and  that  of  beneficenoe, 
which  is  also  in  it,  have  been  overlooked.  To  exhort  men 
to  love  themselves  has  been  supposed  to  be  a  work  of 
supererogation,  if  not  positively  wrong.  We  need,  there- 
fore, to  say  a  word  on  this  point,  and  then  to  show  how 
the  two  coalesce. 

If  the  terms  are  rightly  understood,  we  need  not  hesi- 
tate in  saying  that  a  man  cannot  love  himself  too  much. 
Does  this  startle  any  one  who  has  been  accustomed  to  a 
particular  form  of  phraseology  ?  I  would  ask  him  whether 
he  thinks  we  can  love  others  too  much?  If  not,  neither 
can  we  ourselves,  since  the  love  of  ourselves  is  made  in 
Scripture,  as  it  must  be  by  reasoi^,  the  measure  of  our  love 
to  others.  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself" 
Let  a  man  then  love  himself  as  much  as  he  will,  only  let 
him  love  his  neighbor  as  much.  Let  him  love  his  neigh- 
bor as  much  as  he  will,  only  let  him  love  himself  :is  much. 
This  is  the  Bible  doctrine,  and  in  this  equal  and  impartial 
love  the  good  of  the  whole  will  be  provided  for,  since  both 
the  individual  and  his  neighbor  are  equal  factors  in  mak- 
ing up  the  great  sum  of  good. 

Again,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  individual  to  seek  his 
own  highest  good  is  involved  in  his  structure.  He  would 
be  a  reproach  to  his  Maker  if  it  were  not.  It  has  already 
been  seen  to  be  the  characteristic  of  a  rational  being  to 
act  with  reference  to  an  end.  But  an  end  can  be  sought 
rationally  only  as  there  is  in  it  an  apprehended  good.  It 
would  seem,  therefore,  that  the  idea  of  good  must  be  among 
our  primitive  and  elementary  ideas,  as  much  so  at  least  as 
that  of  an  end.  It  will  probably  be  found  to  result  at  once, 
immediately,  and  always,  from  any  normal  activity  of  tho 
powers.     Without  a  supreme  good,  man  would  be  a  con- 


190  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCI5. 

tradictiou  and  an  absurdity.  If  there  were  no  good  for 
man  he  ODuld  do  nothing  for  himself,  and  nothing  could 
be  done  for  him.  Without  a  rational  conception  of  good 
there  could  be  no  rational  activity ;  and  that  which  is  thus 
at  the  basis  of  all  action  of  the  rational  powers  we  may 
well  suppose  to  be  primitive.  In  the  analysis  by  Cousin 
of  our  moral  ideas,  he  says  that  those  of  merit  and  demerit, 
of  justice  and  injustice,  of  right  and  wrong,  must  precede 
those  of  reward  and  punishment.  This  is  true,  but  it  does 
not  follow  that  they  must  precede  the  idea  of  good  in 
general.  The  idea  of  good  certainly  underlies  those  of 
reward  and  punishment ;  but  since  justice  must  consist  in 
bestowing  good  and  inflicting  evil,  it  would  seem  that  it 
must  underlie  that  alsq,  and  that  there  can  no  more  be  a 
conception  of  justice  and  injustice  in  general  without  that 
of  some  end  or  good,  than  there  can  be  one  of  commercial 
justice  and  injustice  without  that  of  an  exchangeable 
value.  But  that  the  ideas  of  justice  and  injustice  are  nat- 
ural and  necessary,  no  one  doubts. 

In  connection  with  this  idea  of  good  there  must  be 
some  tendency  towards  it,  or  there  could  be  no  harmony 
in  the  being  himself,  and  we  could  have  no  conception  of 
him  as  acting  morally.  Towards  the  supreme  good  there 
must  have  been  some  constitutional  impulse,  as  well  as 
towards  those  that  are  lower,  since  it  must  have  been 
intended  for  a  motive,  and  for  that  mere  comprehension 
would  not  suflice.  It  may  indeed  be  doubted  whether 
good  could  be  conceived  of  as  good,  without  such  a  ten- 
dency. This  tendency  may  have  become  enfeebled,  ob- 
scured, confused;  but  no  philosophy  of  ends  could  be 
conceived  of  without  it,  and  unless  the  nature  be  hope- 
lessly ruined  something  of  it  must  remain.     For  a  nature 


TENDENCY  TO  INDIVIDUAL  GOOD.  191 

thus  ruined,  all  attempts  at  a  philosophy  of  itself  would 
be  simple  bewilderment. 

This  tendency  is  always  implied  both  in  speculation  and 
in  action.  By  many  it  has  been  called  a  rational  instinct. 
Archbishop  Leighton  went  so  far  as  to  use  for  it  the  term 
^*' ajypetiteP  "Actual  or  formal  felicity,"  says  he,  "is  the 
mil  possession  and  enjoyment  of  that  complete  and  chief 
good  (that,  namely,  which  most  perfectly  supplies  all  tho 
wants  and  satisfies  all  the  cravings  of  our  rational  appe- 
tites)^  Of  this  tendency  McLaurin  says,  "  God  has  im- 
planted in  us  that  thirst  after  complete  happiness  which  is 
the  spring  of  men's  actions ;  and  since  the  above-mentioned 
faculty  of  reason  shows  where  that  thirst  may  be  satisfied, 
the  direct  tendency  of  both,  if  duly  approved,  would  be 
to  lead  the  soul  to  the  eternal  fountain  of  all  good."  It 
was  of  this  that  the  schoolmen  were  wont  to  say,  "In 
beatitudinem  fertur  voluntas,  non  ut  vohmtas,  sed  ut 
natura "  — "  The  will  is  borne  towards  happiness,  not  as 
will,  but  as  nature."  This  is  what  was  meant  by  the 
psalmist  king,  in  whom  this  tendency  worked  in  the  light, 
when  he  said,  "  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living 
God."  "My  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out  for  the  living 
God."  This  it  is  which  creates  the  restlessness  of  many, — 
a  deep  and  underlying  dissatisfaction,  often  cropping  out 
at  the  surface,  with  every  form  of  inferior  good,  and  which 
makes  the  knowledge  of  God,  in  and  from  whom  is  the 
supreme  good,  like  cold  water  to  the  thirsty  soul.  This  it 
is  the  inspiration  of  which  all  feel  at  times  lifting  them 
mysteriously,  like  a  mighty  ground  swell,  and  intimating  a 
connection  with  that  which  is  spiritual,  infinite,  and  eternal. 
There  is  in  this  a  commitment  of  each  to  himself,  that  each 
may  work  out  in  himself  the  great  end  of  all. 

If  to  this  inherent  tendency  and  native  correlation  to 


19^  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCfi. 

good  we  add  tlie  provision  made  by  God  for  it ;  if  we  re- 
member that  he  wishes  our  good,  and  how  strongly  he  has 
expressed  that  wish  in  giving  us  the  capacity  and  making 
such  provision  for  its  gratification  ;  if  we  reflect,  too,  that 
the  very  end  of  God  in  the  whole  will  be  defeated  if  his 
creatures  decline  the  good  for  which  they  were  made,  we 
filiall  see  how  sacred  is  the  duty  laid  upon  every  man  to 
accept  of  all  the  good  that  God  gives,  and  to  seek  for  all 
that  he  provides.  Has  he  indeed  given  us  capacities  for 
good,  great  capacities  ?  Has  he  provided  for  their  gratifi- 
cation ?  Has  he  made  our  acceptance  and  attainment  of 
that  good  a  condition  of  our  benefiting  othei-s  ?  Has  he 
even  ofiered  himself  as  the  coiTelate  of  those  faculties,  so 
that  we  may  love  him,  and  find  our  good  in  that  love, — 
what  obligation  can  be  more  sacred  than  to  acknowledge 
our  sense  of  his  goodness  by  accepting  all  that  he  gives, 
just  as  he  gives  it,  and  rejoicing  in  it? 

Having  thus  seen  that  it  is  our  duty  to  secure  our  own 
highest  good,  let  us  see  how,  in  so  doing,  we  shall  promote 
the  good  of  others,  as  we  have  already  seen  how,  in  pro- 
moting the  good  of  others,  that  is,  in  loving  them,  we  pro- 
mote our  own.  When  the  laws  of  God  are  observed  there 
is  no  clashing  of  interests,  but  the  reverse.  It  is  a  great 
principle,  and  the  gain  would  be  immense  if  it  could  be 
thoroughly  incorporated  into  the  minds  of  the  people,  that 
the  highest  good  of  each  man  or  nation  is  more  conducive 
than  anything  else  could  be  to  the  highest  good  of  all. 

This  results  from  the  nature  of  the  highest  good,  which 
is  such  that  the  enjoyment  of  it  by  one  heightens  instead 
of  diminishing  that  of  others.  It  is  not  like  a  feast,  of 
which  he  who  eats  consumes  that  which  might  have  been 
enjoyed  by  another;  but  rather  like  a  musical  concert, 
where  each  new  perforaier,  with  voice  and  instrument  ac- 


memDUAL  and  OENEItAL  GOOD.  19S 

cordant,  adds  something  to  the  harmony,  and  to  the  joy 
of  all.  This  it  does,  first,  because,  as  the  higliest  good  con- 
sists in  loving,  and  as  "  love  works  no  ill  to  his  neighbor," 
but  all  good,  and  good  only,  it  will  follow  that  there  must 
be  an  identity  of  the  two.  The  direct  tendency  and  result 
of  a  virtuous  love  is  the  happiness  both  of  the  person  lov- 
ing and  of  those  beloved.  No  one  can  truly  love  without 
doing  good  to  those  beloved ;  and  no  one  can  truly  love 
without  being  made  happy  in  so  doing. 

But,  second,  moral  good  can  be  sought  only  in  and 
through  moral  goodness.  But  the  more  moral  goodness 
there  is  in  any  individual,  the  more  will  others  feel  com- 
placency in  him,  the  more  approve  him,  and  the  more  will 
he  be  a  source  of  light  and  a  ground  of  joy.  He  who 
seeks  his  own  good  in  moral  goodness,  not  only  lays  a 
foundation  for  his  own  increasing  good  as  his  goodness 
increases,  but  also  for  the  higher  good  of  the  whole  system 
with  which  he  is  connected.  There  is  no  way  of  doing 
good  so  effectual  as  to  increase  our  own  moral  goodness. 
We  thus  increase  the  material  of  happiness,  and  lay  the 
foundation  of  that  subtle  and  most  efficient  of  all  influ- 
ences, an  unconscious  influence. 

A  distinction  has  been  drawn  between  the  enjoyment 
there  is  from  a  moral  act,  as  love,  and  that  from  the  subse- 
quent approbation.  This  is  here  worthy  of  special  notice. 
The  enjoyment  of  the  agent  who  does  a  good  moral  act  is 
heightened  by  the  approbation  which  follows  it ;  but  such 
an  act  is  not  approved  by  the  agent  alone.  Whenever  and 
wherever  a  rational  and  moral  being  may  become  cognizant 
of  the  act,  he  also  will  approve  it,  and  in  approval  there  is 
joy.  Approbation  —  moral  complacency  —  there  are  few 
higher  joys  than  from  these.  In  them  is  the  foundation  for 
the  highest  sympathy,  and  esteem,  and  friendship.   Perhaps 

17 


194  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

we  do  not  sufficiently  reflect  on  the  immense  change  that 
is  wrought  in  the  character  of  our  liappiness,  and  in  all  our 
relations,  by  the  addition  to  the  natural  good  of  good  moral 
acts,  of  this  of  approbation.  It  is  that  by  which  moral 
beings  have  an  interest  in  each  other  as  such,  and  become 
a  community,  a  society,  instead  of  a  herd.  The  addition 
of  this  element  is  like  that  of  light  to  the  heavenly  bodies. 
We  may  suppose  them  hanging  or  floating  in  space  with- 
out light.  There  could  then  be  no  recognition  or  watch- 
fulness of  sympathy.  But  let  light  be  added,  let  an  inter- 
change of  rays  be  passing  throughout  all  space,  giving  to 
the  heavens  their  beauty,  and  proclaiming  momently  how 
well  each  observes  the  law  of  its  movement,  and  we  shall 
have  some  illustration  of  the  change  wrought  by  the  com- 
ing in  of  this  elemeni  of  approbation  and  moral  compla- 
3ency.  If  we  suppose  a  new  star  to  be  lighted  up  in  space 
we  see  at  once  that  it  will  be  in  sympathy  with  the  rest, 
and  that  the  brighter  it  is  the  more  light  the  rest  must 
receive,  and  the  more  will  they  rejoice  in  it.  And  so  it 
must  be  with  moral  goodness.  The  more  there  is  of  it, 
and  so  of  moral  good,  in  any  one,  the  more  material  and 
ground  must  there  be  for  the  happiness  of  others.  "They 
that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firma- 
ment ;  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the 
stars  forever  and  ever." 

So  do  we,  in  adopting  moral  good  as  an  end,  harmonize 
and  identify  what  has  been  called  self-love  with  benevo- 
lence ;  interest  with  duty ;  the  highest  possible  regard  for 
our  own  good  with  the  highest  possible  regard  for  the  good 
of  others. 

From  the  above  discussion  it  appears  that  moral  good  is 
broadly  distinguished  from  all  other,  and  that  its  peculiari- 
ties are  such  that  it  is  fitted  to  be  the  highest  good.    It  is, 


THE  TRUE  END  ^6r  MAN.  105 

first,  independent.  It  is  wholly  within  the  power  of  the 
individual.  The  world  cannot  give  or  take  it  away.  It 
is  beyond  the  reach  of  violence  or  fraud.  In  this  it  is 
strongly  contradistinguished  from  all  other  good.  Second, 
it  is  accompanied  with  approbation.  This  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  voice  of  God  expressing  his  wish  that  this 
good  should  be  sought,  and  is  in  itself  an  entirely  new 
element  of  good.  And,  third,  the  activity  required  for  its 
attainment  is  identical  with  that  which  is  required  for  the 
general  good.  In  the  pursuit  of  it  the  interests  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  community  become  one.  To  such 
moral  good  we  say,  in  opposition  to  Kant,  that  goodness, 
or  virtue,  or  holiness,  does  stand  in  a  causal  relation ;  and 
that  it  is  the  only  possible  cause,  since  it  can  be  only  in 
and  from  that  specific  form  of  activity. 

Do  we  say,  then,  to  close  this  discussion  in  the  terms 
with  which  we  started, — do  we  say  that  the  end  for  man  is 
happiness  ?  No.  The  good  here,  the  highest  good,  is  from 
the  normal  activity  of  the  moral  powers.  As  such,  that 
activity  is  obedience  to  the  law  of  God,  however  revealed. 
It  is  all  that  can  be  commanded  or  directly  willed,  or  that 
can  be  approved  and  honored.  It  is  virtue ;  it  is  holiness. 
Do  we,  then,  say  that  virtue  or  holiness  is  the  end  for  man  ? 
No;. for  in  this  holiness  there  is  a  blessedness  wholly  dis- 
tinctive and  peculiar,  higher,  purer,  nobler  than  any  other ; 
a  blessedness  like  that  of  God  himself,  and  as  insepara- 
ble from  the  holiness  as  its  light  is  from  the  sun.  Not, 
then,  in  happiness  without  holiness  do  we  say  is  the  true 
end  for  man,  for  without  that  the  happiness  could  not  be ; 
not  in  holiness  without  happiness,  for  without  that  the 
holiness  could  not  be  and  be  holiness,  any  more  than  the 
sun  could  be  the  sun  without  its  light.  But  we  do  say 
that  the  true  end  for  man  is  bolt  happiness,  that  i% 


1&8  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIEl^CE. 

BLESSEDNESS.  Not  the  oxygen  alone  do  we  lued,  not 
the  hydrogen  alone,  but  the  water,  —  that  living  water  of 
which  if  a  man  drink  he  shall  never  thirst. 

Since,  then,  blessedness,  as  now  defined,  is  the  true  good 
for  man  as  man,  and  so  for  all  rational  and  moral  beings,  it 
will  -be  the  end  of  man  to  increase  the  sum  of  blessedness ; 
and  virtue  will  consist  in  a  supreme  purpose  to  promote 
this  impartially  and  in  the  highest  degree,. 

The  true  end  of  man  is  not  to  be  found  wholly  in  his 
subserviency  to  others;  and  it  is  no  more  to  be  found  in 
himself  than  the  end  of  a  stone,  with  its  faces  hewn  and 
fitted  to  be  joined  with  others  in  a  building,  is  to  be  found 
in  itself  The  end  of  such  a  stone  would  be  to  be  fitted  in 
with  others  as  a  part  of  the  building,  and  if  the  stone  were 
rational  it  would  seek  as  its  end  its  own  place,  and  would 
rest  there.  So  man,  being  capable  of  comprehending  and 
choosing  the  good  of  the  whole  as  an  end,  is  capable  of 
choosing  his  individual  happiness  and  end  in  harmony  with 
that,  as  a  part  of  that,  and  as  being  possible  of  attainment 
only  in  connection  with  that. 

But  it  is  only  through  love  that  man  is  so  adjusted  as  to 
fill  his  place  in  harmony  with  others  in  a  perfect  society ; 
for,  in  loving,  that  is,  in  choosing  the  good  of  the  whole, 
man  chooses  his  own  good,  and  in  choosing  his  own  good 
as  consisting  in  loving,  he  chooses  the  good  of  the  whole. 

The  difficulty  here  has  resulted  from  a  false  conception 
of  interest.  If  this  had  always  been  conceived  of  as  the 
highest  activity  of  the  highest  powers,  there  would  have 
been  no  supposed  opposition  between  interest  and  duty. 

The  difficulty  in  indicating  the  full  end  for  man  by  any 
single  form  of  expression  arises  from  its  complexity.  That 
he  was  designed  to  promote  intentionally  the  blessedness 
of  others  there  can  be  no  doubt.    This  he  is  capable  of 


THBEE  ELEMENTS  IN  THE  END.  197 

doing  from  a  rational  estimate  of  it,  and  from  love.  As 
little  doubt  can  there  be  that  he  was  designed  to  be  him- 
self blessed ;  and  he  is  capable  of  promoting  his  own  bless- 
edness for  its  own  sake.  Further,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  in  doing  these  he  was  designed  to  glorify  God.  This, 
also,  he  is  capable  of  doing  intentionally,  and  this  he  will 
do  just  in  proportion  as  he  promotes  the  blessedness  of 
others  and  is  himself  blessed,  because  the  blessedness  of 
the  creature  arises  from  that  manifestation  of  the  perfec- 
tions of  God  which  is  his  declarative  glory.  In  aiming 
at  either  of  these  most  would  agree  that  man  would  act 
rightly,  and  that  in  promoting  the  three  to  the  highest 
possible  extent  his  whole  end  would  be  found.  Are  these 
then  three  ends  ?  Perhaps  we  may  say  that ;  still  the  ten- 
dency and  effort  has  always  been  to  find  a  single  form  of 
expression  that  should  include  the  three.  This  has  been 
encouraged  by  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  these  are  in- 
volved in  each  other,  since  no  one  can  promote  his  own 
blessedness  without  promoting  that  of  others,  or  can  pro- 
mote either  except  by  glorifying  God, 

In  the  Bible  form  of  statement  the  three  elements  are 
involved.  The  love  of  God  and  our  neighbor  is  made 
most  prominent,  but  when  it  is  said,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,"  there  is  implied  the  regard  for  self  in 
just  the  right  proportion. 

In  the  form  adopted  by  the  Westminster  divines  wo 
have  also  the  three  elements.  "  To  glorify  God,  and  enjoy 
him,"  are  combined  as  one  end.  This  is  substantially  right, 
since  we  can  glorify  God  only  by  loving  and  obeying  him, 
and  since,  in  thus  loving  and  obeying,  we  shall  do  what  we 
may  to  secure  the  blessedness  of  all  other  creatures. 

The  form  adopted  by  Edwards  is,  that  virtue  consists  In 
17* 


198  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

tbe  love  of  being.  This  includes  the  three  elements,  and, 
if  taken  literally,  much  more. 

In  the  same  way  we  include  the  three  elements  when 
we  say,  as  above,  — 

1st.  That  the  end  of  man  is  to  increase  the  sum  of 
blessedness,  and, 

2d.  That  virtue  consists  in  a  supreme  purjDOse  to  pro- 
mote blessedness  impartially,  and  in  the  highest  possible 
degree. 

3d.  This  being  the  end  for  which  God  made  man,  he  is 
glorified  just  in  proportion  as  man  seeks  that  end. 

Having  thus  placed  moral  good  in  its  rightful  supremacy 
as  the  highest  good,  and  having  found  in  it  the  point  of 
coalescence  for  individual  and  general  good,  to  complete 
the  subject  we  need  to  see  its  relations  to  natural  good. 
The  two  are  not  immediately  and  necessaiily  connected. 
As  we  have  seen,  moral  goodness  is  the  choosing  by  a  free 
being  of  his  true  end,  together  with  all  subordinate  acts 
and  choices  involved  in  that..  Moral  good  is  the  enjoy- 
ment inseparably  connected  with  such  choice.  It  holds  the 
same  relation  to  the  activity  of  the  moral  powers  that  nat- 
ural good  does  to  that  of  the  other  powers,  and  is  in  no 
proper  sense  a  reward  of  moral  goodness.  There  is  in  it 
that  which  is  meant  when  it  is  said  that  virtue  is  its  own 
reward.  But,  properly  speaking,  reward  is  natural  good 
conferred  by  the  will  of  another  on  account  of  moral 
goodness.  On  the  other  hand,  moral  badness,  or  wicked- 
ness, is  the  choice  by  a  free  being  of  any  other  than  his 
true  end,  and  the  acts  under  such  choice.  Moral  evil, 
or  suffering  (for  it  is  here  used  for  that),  is  the  suffering 
inseparably  connected  with  such  choice ;  and  punishment 
is  natural  evil  inflicted  on  account  of  such  badness  or 
wickedness.     These,  that  is,  moral  good  and  evil,  follow 


MORAL  AND  NATURAL  GOOD.  199 

moral  goodness  and  wickedness  as  the  shadow  the  sub 
stance.  Between  moral  goodness  and  a  certain  joy  and 
approbation  and  hope  the  connection  is  as  immediate  and 
inseparable  as  any  under  the  laws  of  nature,  and  more  so ; 
between  wickedness,  the  lie,  the  fraud,  and  a  moral  deteri- 
oration, a  stain,  a  foreboding  of  evil,  the  connection  is  as 
immediate  and  close  as  between  putting  the  finger  in  the 
fire  and  being  burned,  and  more  so.  This  effect  of  wick- 
edness upon  his  innermost  being  no  man  can  escape,  and 
therefore  no  wicked  man  can  be,  in  the  highest  sense,  pros- 
perous. But  this  effect  is  invisible,  and  in  this  life  incom- 
plete. It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  conceal  it  in  a  measure 
from  himself,  and  wholly  from  others ;  especially  if  there 
be  in  the  mind,  as  there  commonly  is,  such  a  perversion 
that  moral  good  is  comparatively  disregarded,  and  the 
possession  of  natural  good  is  made  the  standard  of  happi- 


There  is  here  then  no  antinomy,  to  adopt  the  phraseol- 
ogy of  Kant,  between  virtue  and  happiness.  If  that  exist 
anywhere,  it  is  between  moral  goodness  and  natural  good. 
Here  there  is,  if  not  an  opposition,  yet  a  want  of  harmony 
that  has  always  given  to  this  world  the  aspect  of  a  moral 
enigma.  External  advantages,  natural  good,  are  often 
possessed  by  the  wicked  and  not  by  the  good,  anfl  the  dis- 
tribution of  them  is  so  far  promiscuous  as  to  jar  upon  our 
moral  sentiments,  and  perhaps  to  lead  us  to  question  the 
existence  of  any  moral  government.  In  the  oldest  book 
extant  the  inquiry  is  made,  "Wherefore  do  the  wicked 
prosper,  become  old,  yea,  mighty  in  power?"  More  than 
a  thousand  years  afterwards  the  comj)laint  was,  "They 
ovei-pass  the  deeds  of  the  wicked;  they  judge  not  the 
c^nse,  — the  cause  of  the  fatherless;   yet  they  prosper." 


200  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

And  the  same  is  the  complaint  of  to-day.    Says  Coler- 
idge,— 

♦'  How  seldom,  friend,  a  good  great  man  inherits 
Honor  and  wealth  with  all  his  worth  and  pains. 
It  seems  a  story  from  the  world  of  spirits, 
When  any  man  obtains  that  which  he  merits, 
Or  any  merits  that  which  he  obtains." 

Such  passages  show  what  the  mind  naturally  regards  as 
moral  order.  It  is  that  natural  good  should  follow  in  the 
train  of  moral  goodness  and  wait  upon  it  everywhere  as 
the  satellite  upon  its  primary.  But  this  it  does  not.  It  is 
often  the  reverse.  Often  natural  good  becomes  the 
tempter  of  man  to  lure  him  from  virtue,  and  often  he  is 
compelled,  if  he  would  be  virtuous,  not  only  to  renounce 
natural  good,  but  to  suffer  the  extremest  natural  evils,  even 
the  loss  of  life  itself.  Not  only  does  moral  goodness  fail 
to  produce  natural  good,  —  it  often  becomes  incompatible 
with  it. 

To  relieve  the  jar  thus  made  upon  our  moral  sentiments 
philosophy  points  us  to  the  fact  that  each  natural  as  well 
as  moral  law  is  independent,  and  that  obedience  to  each 
gives  its  own  separate  and  specific  good.  Be  benevolent, 
it  is  said,  and  you  shall  have  the  rewards  of  benevolence ; 
but  if  you  violate  the  laws  of  temperance,  your  benevolence 
will  not  and  ought  not  to  prevent  your  paying  the  pen- 
alty. The  view  is  that  men  get  what  they  earn,  and  that 
if  they  do  not  choose  to  pay  for  a  good,  they  should  not 
complain  if  they  do  not  get  it.  Says  Mrs.  Barbauld,  in  an 
essay  upon  Inconsistency  in  our  Expectations,  "We  should 
consider  this  world  as  a  great  mart  of  commerce,  where 
fortune  exposes  to  our  view  various  commodities,  —  riches, 
ease,  tranquillity,  fame,  integrity,  knowledge.  Everything 
is  marked  at  a  settled  price.    Our  tinje,  our  labor,  our  in- 


INCONSISTENT  EXPECTATIONS.  201 

genuitj,  are  so  much  ready  money,  which  we  are  to  lay 
out  to  the  best  advantage.  Examine,  compare,  choose, 
reject;  but  stand  to  your  own  judgment;  and  do  not,  like 
children,  when  you  have  purchased  one  thing,  repine  that 
you  do  not  possess  another  which  you  did  not  purchase. 
Such  is  the  force  of  well-regulated  industry  that  a  steady 
and  vigorous  exertion  of  our  faculties,  directed  to  one 
end,  will  generally  insure  success.  Would  you,  for  in- 
stance, be  rich  ?  Do  you  think  that  single  point  worth 
the  sacrificing  everything  else  to  ?  You  may  then  be  rich. 
Thousands  have  become  so  from  the  lowest  beginnings,  by 
toil  and  patient  diligence,  and  attention  to  the  minutest 
article  of  expense  and  profit.  But  you  must  give  up  the 
pleasures  of  leisure,  of  a  vacant  mind,  of  a  free,  unsuspi- 
cious  temper.  If  you  preserve  your  integrity,  it  must  be 
a  coarse-spun  and  vulgar  honesty.  Those  high  and  lofly 
notions  of  morals  which  you  brought  with  you  from  the 
schools  must  be  considerably  lowered,  and  mixed  with  the 
baser  alloy  of  a  jealous  and  worldly-minded  prudence. 
You  must  learn  to  do  hard,  if  not  unjust  things;  and  for 
the  nice  embaiTassments  of  a  delicate  and  ingenuous 
spirit,  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  get  lid  of  them  as  fast  as 
possible.  You  must  shut  your  heart  against  the  muses, 
and  be  content  to  feed  your  understanding  with  plain 
household  tiniths.  In  short,  you  must  not  attempt  to 
enlarge  your  ideas,  or  polish  your  taste,  or  refine  your  sen- 
timents ;  but  must  keep  on  in  one  beaten  track,  without 
turning  aside  cither  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left.  *But 
I  cannot  submit  to  drudgery  like  tliis ;  I  feel  a  spirit  above 
it.'  'Tis  well ;  be  above  it,  then;  only  do  not  repine  that 
you  arc  not  rich." 

"The  man  whose  tender  sensibility  of  conscience  and 
Btriet  regard  to  the  rules  of  morality  make  him  scnipuloua 


202  LECTUBES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

and  fearful  of  offending,  is  often  heard  to  complain  of  the 
disadvantages  he  lies  under  in  every  path  of  honor  and 
profit.  *  Could  I  but  get  over  some  nice  points,  and  con- 
form to  the  practice  and  opinion  of  those  about  me,  I 
might  stand  as  fair  a  chance  as  others  for  dignities  and 
preferment.'  And  why  can  you  not  ?  What  hinders  you 
from  discarding  this  troublesome  scrupulosity  of  yours 
which  stands  so  grievously  in  your  way  ?  If  it  b^  a  small 
thing  to  enjoy  a  healthful  mind  sound  at  the  very  core, 
that  does  not  shrink  from  the  keenest  inspection  ;  inward 
freedom  from  remorse  and  perturbation ;  unsullied  white- 
ness and  simplicity  of  manners ;  a  genuine  integrity 

Pure  in  the  last  recesses  of  the  mind  j  — 

if  you  think  these  advantages  an  inadequate  recompense 
for  what  you  resign,  dismiss  your  scruples  this  instant,  and 
be  a  slave-merchant,  a  parasite,  or  what  you  please." 

There  is  good  sense  in  this.  Perhaps  it  is  the  best  view 
that  philosophy  can  take ;  it  is  substantially  the  view  of 
Combe,  in  his  Constitution  of  Man.  But  then  there  is  in 
it  no  vindication  of  a  state  of  things  in  which  vice  so  often 
and  so  greatly  gains  outward  advantage,  and  in  which  vir- 
tue and  piety  are  not  merely  left  destitute  of  what  they 
may  not  choose  to  bargain  for,  —  to  which  there  would  not 
be  so  much  objection,  —  but  are  compelled,  if  they  would 
remain  virtue  and  piety,  to  submit  to  the  loss  of  all  things, 
and  to  suffer  whatever  the  physical  nature  may  be  capable 
of  suffering.  Of  such  cases  the  world  has  been  full,  and 
for  these  philosophy  has  no  solution.  They  point  to  the 
future.  The  constitution  and  course  of  nature,  with  the 
moral  phenomena  which  it  envelops  and  enshrines,  does 
not  furnish  data  for  its  own  explanation.  As  the  solution 
is  not  from  itself,  it  can  neither  know  of  it,  nor  have  organs 


MORAL  GOODNESS  AND  NATURAL  GOOD.  203 

to  utter  it.  If  the  course  of  things  were  to  go  on  forever 
as  it  does  now,  this  world,  in  its  relation  to  the  moral  con- 
stitution of  man,  would  forever  remain  an  inexplicable 
enigma.  So  far  as  I  can  judge,  neither  a  moral  govern- 
ment, nor  a  moral  governor,  nor  the  existence  of  any  being 
worthy  to  be  called  God,  could  be  proved.  No  ;  the  solu- 
tion can  come  only  from  the  future.  This  Coleridge  felt ; 
for.  while  he  recognizes  the  incompatibility  just  spoken  of, 
and  so  assigns  to  the  good  great  man  only  the  natural  re- 
wards of  goodness  and  greatness,  yet  the  friends  he  gives 
him  are  such  as  to  show  that  he  did  not  suppose  the  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  to  be  here. 

♦'  What  woulds't  thou  have  a  good,  gresLt  man  obtain  ? 
Wealth,  title,  dignity,  a  golden  chain, 
Or  heaps  of  corses  which  the  sword  hath  slam  / 
Croodncss  and  greatness  are  not  means,  but  ends. 
Hath  he  not  always  treasure,  always  friends, 
The  good  great  man  ?    Three  treasures,  —  love,  and  light, 
And  calm  thoughts,  equable  as  infant's  breath  ; 
And  three  fast  friends  more  sure  than  day  or  night,— 
Himself,  his  Maker,  and  the  angel  Death  ? " 

This  relation  of  moral  goodness  to  natural  good  may 
doubtless  be  justified  in  a  temporary  dispensation.  It 
brings  new  elements  into  the  divine  administration;  it 
trains  virtue  as  it  could  not  be  otherwise.  It  is  at  the 
basis  of  moral  sublimity  and  heroism.  The  object  is 
the  enthronement  of  the  moral  nature.  Let  that  be  fully 
done,  and  there  comes  the  subjection,  and  subordination, 
and  right  action  of  all  the  other  parts  of  our  nature,  and 
consequently  all  possible  natural  good  from  that.  Here,  so 
far  as  natural  good  can  arise  from  the  harmony  and  right 
action  of  all  the  powers  of  the  individual,  do  wo  find 
the  natural,  and,  indirectly,  causal  relation  between  moral 


204  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

goodness  and  natural  good.  With  the  rule  of  the  moral 
nature  must  come  all  temperance,  all  kindness,  all  harmo- 
nies of  the  individual  system,  and  so  all  the  good  it  can 
give.  Here  is  no  antinomy  between  moral  goodness  and 
natural  good.  Naturally  there  is  none.  The  present  rela- 
tion and  arrangement  is  clearly  a  derangement,  and  such 
an  one  that  the  moral  nature  can  never  be  satisfied  till  the 
adverse  influence  of  evil  shall  be  eliminated  and  separated 
from  the  good,  and  till  external  nature  shall  be  so  re-ad- 
justed that  all  her  substances,  agencies,  laws,  forces,  influ- 
ences, shall  come  into  accord  with  the  laws  of  a  higher 
sphere,  and  shall  ofier  themselves  always  and  everywhere 
as  the  servants  of  goodness.  This,  and  this  only,  is  the 
natural  relation  between  moral  goodness  and  natural  good, 
and  thus  do  we  harmonize  the  two. 


LECTURE   IX. 

THE  SPHERE  OF  MORAL  SCIENCE.  — RIGHT  AND  WRONG. —DEFINITION  OF 
TERMS.  —  PROVINCE  OF  CONSCIENCE.  —  HOW  FAR  INFALLIBLE.  —  TWO 
SPHERES.— DIVERSITY  OF  MORAL  JUDGMENTS.  —  CRISES  OF  LIFE.  — RE- 
LATION OF  CONSCIENCE  TO  OTHER  PRINCIPLES  OF  ACTION.  —  COMPLEX 
ITY  OF  MOTIVES.  — AFFECTIONS  HAVE  A  UOaAL  CHARACTER  IN  THEM 
SELVES. 

HAvrN-G  now  examined  the  moral  constitution,  we  are 
in  a  position  to  discriminate  more  perfectly  the  true  sphere 
of  moral  science. 

In  examining  an  outward  act  of  a  moral  being  and 
seeking  to  determine  its  character,  we  may  either  go  back- 
ward to  its  source,  or  forward  to  its  consequences.  In 
one  or  the  other  of  these  we  must  find  the  sphere  of  the 
science ;  for  though  actions  are  often  spoken  of  as  if  they 
had  a  moral  quality  in  themselves,  yet  aside  from  their 
origin  or  their  consequences  this  is  not  conceivable. 

If  we  go  back  to  the  source  of  the  act  we  find  that 
moral  constitution  which  we  have  considered.  "We  find  a 
person  capable  of  doing  moral  acts,  and  of  judging  of 
them,  and  it  is  in  some  mode  of  his  activity  that  we  find 
the  moral  quality.  In  connection  with  this  we  find  the 
terms  virtuous,  vicious,  goodness,  wickedness,  morally 
good,  morally  evil.  In  connection  with  these  there  are 
invisible  consequences  upon  the  spirit  itself  which  affect 
the  character,  and  which  we  think  of  as  necessary. 

If  we  go  forward  to  the  outward  consequences  of  the 
18  205 


206  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

act,  we  find  a  conformity  or  want  of  conformity  to  fixed 
relations,  together  with  the  terms  utility,  injurioiisncss, 
general  consequences,  and  more  generally,  though  they  are, 
as  we  have  seen,  applied  in  the  other  direction,  the  terms 
right  and  wrong.  An  action  is  good  because  its  source  is 
good.  "  Make  the  tree  good,  and  his  fruit  will  be  good." 
It  is  right  because  it  is  conformed  to  a  rule  or  law  based 
on  a  recognition  of  relations,  and  so,  adapted  to  attain  its 
end.  But  the  terms  right  and  wrong  have  often  been  so 
applied,  now  to  indicate  moral  quality  as  belonging  to  a 
person,  and  now  to  indicate  a  conformity  or  want  of  con- 
formity to  fixed  outward  relations,  as  to  produce  much 
confusion. 

Thus  it  is  said  in  the  most  popular  work  on  morals  pub- 
lished in  this  country,*  that  "Moral  philosophy  takes  it  for 
granted  that  there  is  in  human  action  a  moral  quality ; 
that  is,  that  a  human  action  may  be  right  or  wrong." 
Here,  for  an  action  to  be  right  or  wrong,  and  to  have  a 
moral  quality,  is  the  same  thing.  Again,  in  another  part 
of  the  work :  "  From  these  facts  we  are  easily  led  to  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  and  innocence  and 
guilt.  Right  and  wrong  depend  upon  the  relations  under 
which  beings  are  created,  and  hence  the  obligations  result- 
ing from  these  relations  are,  in  their  nature,  fixed  and 
unchangeable.  Guilt  and  innocence  depend  upon  a  knowl- 
edge of  these  relations."  .  .  "An  action  may  be  wrong; 
but  if  the  actor  have  no  means  of  knowing  it  to  be  wrong 
he  is  held  morally  guiltless  in  the  doing  of  it.  Or,  again,  a 
man  may  have  a  consciousness  of  obligation,  and  a  sincere 
desire  to  act  in  conformity  to  it,  and  may,  from  ignorance 
of  the  way  in  which  that  obligation  is  to  be  discharged, 
perform  an  act  in  its  nature  wrong,  yet,  if  he  have  acted 

♦  Wayland's  Moral  Science. 


RIGHT  AND  WRONG.  207 

according  to  the  best  of  his  possible  knowledge,  he  majr 
not  only  be  held  guiltless,  but  even  virtuous." 

Here,  then,  is  an  act  that  is  virtuous  and  also  wrong. 
Which,  now,  of  these  words  expresses  the  moral  quality 
of  the  act?  Virtuous,  certainly.  All  usage  would  show 
this;  and  we  are  also  told  by  the  same  author  that  the 
moral  quality  of  an  act  resides  in  the  ftitention.  Here  we 
liave  the  words  right  and  wrong  used  to  indicate  moral 
quality,  and  we  have  also  a  formal  statement  that  they 
depend  upon  abstract  relations  which  have  no  necessary 
rx)nnection  with  moral  quality ;  so  that  an  action  may  be 
light  and  vicious,  wrong  and  virtuous,  at  the  same  time. 
But  an  investigation  of  "  intention,"  on  which  moral  qual 
ity  is  said  to  depend,  is  one  thing ;  and  an  investigation  of 
•*the  relations  under  which  beings  are  created,"  on  whict 
right  and  wrong  are  said  to  depend,  is  an  entirely  dif 
ferent  thing. 

Which,  then,  of  these  is  it,  or  is  it  both,  that  moral  phi- 
losophy investigates?  It  has  sometimes  been  one,  some- 
times the  other;  but  I  suppose  that  moral  philosophy 
properly  stops  where  there  is  no  longer  any  moral  quality ; 
that  moral  quality  is  found  only  in  mind,  and  that  the 
study  of  relations,  and  so  of  right  and  wrong  as  depending 
on  them,  can  be  useful  only  as  furnishing  guidance  for  the 
action  of  piinciples  already  formed.  He  who  studies  these 
relations  that  he  may  act  in  accordance  with  them,  does  it 
because  he  is  already  virtuous. 

In  a  philosophy  making  the  idea  of  choice  and  that  of 
an  end  central,  the  term  good  becomes  prominent,  rather 
than  the  term  right.  "The  True,"  "The  Beautiful,"  and 
"The  Good,"  says  Cousin;  not,  as  his  own  philosophy 
would  require,  The  Right.  Both  words  are  indispensable, 
and  both  are  liable  to  analogous  ambiguities,  so  that  it  is 


208  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

difficult  to  use  either  in  one  unifonn  sense.  Used  as  ad- 
jectives, and  where  no  moral  quality  is  implied,  the  general 
rule  is  that  the  term  good  is  applied  to  things,  and  ex- 
presses that  quality  of  the  thing  by  which  it  is  adapted  to 
the  use  for  which  it  was  designed ;  while  the  term  right  is 
applied  to  acts,  and  expresses  such  a  mode  of  using  the 
thing  as  will  accomplish  the  particular  end  designed.  Thus, 
we  say  a  good  pen,  meaning  a  pen  adapted  to  write  well ; 
a  good  axe,  meaning  an  axe  adapted  to  cut.  But  of  any 
use  of  the  pen  in  writing,  or  of  the  axe  in  cutting,  by 
which  they  fail  to  accomplish  their  end,  we  say  that  it  is 
not  right.  Of  any  action  not  having  moral  quality,  and 
adapted  to  accomplish  its  end,  we  say,  that  was  right. 
This  is  the  general  rule,  and  those  exceptions  in  which 
the  word  right  is  applied  to  things  prove  the  rule.  Thus 
a  right  line  is  that  which  is  the  most  direct  between 
two  points ;  the  right  road  is  that  which  will  take  a  man 
to  the  proposed  end  of  his  journey,  though  it  may  be  as 
far  as  possible  from  being  a  good  one.  The  right  man 
in  the  right  place  is  the  man  that  will  do  the  work  of 
that  place. 

When  moral  quality  is  involved,  and  these  terms  are 
used  as  adjectives,  good  is  applied  to  both  persons  and 
actions ;  right  to  actions  only.  We  say,  a  good  man,  and  a 
good  act.  But  when  we  say  a  right  act,  having  sole  refer- 
ence to  moral  quality,  we  mean  the  same  as  when  we  say  a 
good  act.  More  generally,  however,  even  here,  the  word 
right,  instead  of  looking  backward  to  the  source  of  the 
act,  looks  forward  to  its  outward  consequences,  and  often 
it  is  doubtful  which  way  it  was  intended  to  look.  Here  is 
the  ambiguity. 

Used  as  nouns,  good  expresses  some  form  of  enjoyment; 
right  is  defined  to  mean  "  conformity  to  the  perfect  stand- 


CONSCIENCE.  209 

ard,  rectitude,  straightness ; "  that  is,  conduct  adapted  to 
attain  the  true  end.  With  the  article,  as,  "  the  Right,"  the 
terra  is  hardly  naturalized  with  us  yet.  Generally,  when 
used  as  a  noun  in  morals,  the  word  right  is  employed  in  a 
connection  wholly  different,  as  when  we  speak  of  rights, 
and  say  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  his  estate,  or  speak  of 
the  doctrine  of  rights. 

Having  considered  the  source  of  moral  actions,  and 
thus  the  province  of  moral  science,  we  next  inquire  after 
that  of  conscience. 

And,  first,  the  primary  activity  of  conscience  is  not 
directly  from  the  will,  or  what  the  will  makes  it  to  be.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  of  the  nature  of  virtue  or  vice,  but  from 
the  constitution,  as  made  by  God.  The  fact,  therefore, 
that  man  possesses  a  conscience  has  nothing  to  do  with 
his  character  as  good  or  bad.  That  he  should  have  a  con- 
science as  a  part  of  his  moral  nature  is  simply  a  condition 
of  moral  character  of  any  kind.  Plain  as  this  may  appear, 
the  possession  of  conscience  has  often  been  supposed  to  be 
a  proof  of  moral  goodness. 

We  inquire,  secondly,  how  far  conscience  is  infallible, 
and  so  a  reliable  guide. 

And  here  I  observe  that  conscience  is  infallible  so  far  as 
it  is  uniform  in  its  decisions.  This  follows  from  its  being  a 
part  of  the  constitution,  or  a  separate  faculty.  That  would 
not  be  the  same  faculty  in  all  men,  which,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, should  give  different  results.  Place  two  men 
with  perfect  eyes  under  similar  circumstances  and  they  will 
see  alike,  and  see  accurately.  There  must,  therefore,  be  cir- 
cumstances in  which  there  will  be  a  uniform  and  infallible 
action  of  the  conscience.  What  are  these  ?  This  will  bo 
when  the  conscience  is  unperverted,  and  the  subject  on 
which  it  judges  is  seen  just  as  it  is, 
18* 


210  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Under  such  circumstances  all  men  would,  all  men  now 
do,  immediately  discriminate  between  benevolence  and 
malignity,  as  in  themselves  morally  good  and  morally  evil. 
Inseparable  from  this  idea  and  feeling,  all  would  have  the 
blended  idea  and  feeling  of  obligation,  —  that  is,  that 
benevolence  ought  to  be  manifested  and  malignity  re- 
fstrained.  It  is  by  the  term  ought  that  this  idea  and  feel- 
ing of  obligation  is  expressed,  and  when  our  own  conduct 
is  in  question,  there  is  in  it  an  impulse  towards  the  doing 
of  that  which  we  feel  that  we  ought  to  do.  This  is  some- 
times called  the  impulsive  power  of  conscience,  and  it  dif- 
fers from  others  as  having  authority.  This  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  conscience  so  much  insisted  on  by  Butler.  It  is 
the  proclamation  within  us  of  the  moral  law,  carrying  with 
it  its  own  authority,  which  no  man  can  deny  without 
denying  his  nature.  Let,  now,  this  authority  be  obeyed  in 
canying  out  the  principle  of  benevolence,  and  all  men 
would  feel  approbation ;  let  it  be  disobeyed,  and  all  would 
feel  disapprobation.  In  our  own  case  these  would  become 
self-approbation  or  remorse.  They  would  be  the  sense  of 
merit  or  demerit  heretofore  spoken  of,  involving  an  indefi- 
nite promise  and  threat  under  the  divine  government. 

So  far,  and  under  the  above  circumstances,  the  action  of 
conscience  would  be  uniform.  To  deny  this  would  be  to 
deny  that  man  has  a  moral  nature,  and  the  possibility  of 
moral  science. 

But  if  there  be  under  any  circumstances  this  uniform- 
ity, how  do  we  account  for  the  diversity  of  moral  judg- 
ments there  is  among  men,  —  a  diversity  so  great  that 
eminent  moralists,  as  Paley,  have  even  denied  the  exist- 
ence of  conscience  as  an  original  part  of  the  constitu- 
tion ? 

To  do  this  we  must  look  first  at  the  different  spheres  in 


CONSCIENCE.  211 

which  conscience  acts;  and,  second,  at  its  liability  to  be 
disregarded  or  misled. 

And,  first,  we  notice  the  two  spheres  in  which  con- 
science affiiTOS  obligation,  and  the  different  circumstances 
under  which  it  is  affirmed. 

Here  it  is  to  be  observed  that  conscience  affirms  obliga- 
tion solely  in  view  of  the  choice  of  ends,  especially  of  the 
supreme  end,  and  not  of  means,  except  as  they  are  con- 
ducive to  the  end.  Conscience  responds  to  the  moral 
Jaw,  and  is  satisfied  when  that  is  fulfilled ;  but  the  law 
respects  only  the  choice  of  ends.  "Love,"  says  the  Scrip- 
ture, "  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbor,  therefore  love  is  the 
fulfilling  of  the  law."  In  the  exercise  of  supreme  love  to 
God  and  impartial  love  to  man,  the  law  is  fulfilled,  and 
the  conscience  satisfied:  The  means  of  expressing  that 
love  must  be  left  to  positive  command,  or  to  the  judg- 
ment. 

What  is  done,  then,  in  connection  with  the  choice  of  a 
supreme  end  is  wholly  in  the  spiritual  sphere.  It  is  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  moral  law.  There  can  be  no  action 
of  a  fallible  understanding  in  estimating  probabilities,  and 
the  affinuation  of  obligation  is  immediate  and  uniform. 
As  between  the  good  and  the  evil  seen  in  themselves,  it  is 
impossible  that  the  moral  reason  should  not  make  the  dis- 
tinction, and  that  conscience  should  not  affirm  obligation 
to  choose  the  good.  To  suppose  otherwise  would  be  to 
deny  reason  to  be  reason.  It  would  be  to  deny  the  possi- 
bility of  conscience. 

But  conscience  not  only  affirms  obligation  as  pertaining 
to  the  choice  of  a  supreme  end  as  good,  but  also  to  the 
performance  of  acts  as  right,  that  is,  as  conducing  to  the 
supreme  end. 

Here  there  is  liability  to  mistake.    We  may,  first,  sup- 


212  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

pose  that  to  be  conducive  to  the  end  which  is  not,  but  the 
reverse,  and  so  approve  of  it  as  right.  In  this  case  the  act 
would  be  said  to  be  subjectively  right,  but  objectively- 
wrong.  Such  an  act  is  one  respecting  which  conscience 
affirms  obligation  under  an  unavoidable  mistake  of  the 
iudgment.  A  man  may  do  it  and  be  innocent.  He  may 
also  do  such  an  act  and  be  blameworthy,  because  he  had 
previously  failed  to  inform  himself  as  he  ought.  But,  sec- 
ond, an  act  may,  on  the  other  hand,  be  subjectively  wrong 
and  objectively  right.  A  man  may  give  poison  with  intent 
to  kill,  that  may  cure  an  inveterate  disease.  According  to 
this,  and  as  the  word  right  is  here  used,  a  man  may,  fii*st, 
intend  to  do  right,  and  do  it;  or,  second,  he  may  intend 
to  do  right,  and  do  wrong ;  or,  third,  he  may  intend  to  do 
wrong,  and  do  it ;  or,  fourth,  he  may  intend  to  do  wrong, 
and  do  right. 

In  the  first  of  the  above  spheres,  that  of  ends,  so  far  at 
least  as  the  supreme  end  is  involved,  the  decisions  of  con- 
science are  uniform.  In  the  second,  that  of  means,  there 
is  great  diversity.  Is  this  in  the  decisions  of  the  con- 
science or  of  the  judgment  ?  If  we  suppose  the  decision 
honestly  come  to  that  a  given  means  is  indispensable  to 
the  attainment  of  the  supreme  end,  the  affirmation  of  obli- 
gation to  choose  the  means  will  be  as  uniform  as  in  the 
former  case.  The  judgment  may  be  at  fault,  but  there 
will  be  no  guilt.  In  such  a  case  a  diversity  of  judgment 
would  seem  to  involve  a  diversity  in  the  decisions  of  con- 
science, but  it  would  not.  One  man  would  say  the  thing 
ought  to  be  done,  and  would  verily  think  so ;  another,  that 
it  ought  not ;  but  if  the  decisions  of  the  judgment  were 
alike,  those  of  the  conscience  would  be  also. 

It  remains,  then,  to  find  the  source  of  the  diversity,  and 
the  guilt,  in  some  dishonesty  in  forming  the  judgment  — 


^PAlSe  ST?ANi)ARDS  IN  MORALS.  21S 

in  some  failure  to  come  perfectly  to  the  light,  that  light 
which  is  presupposed  in  our  heing  moral  beings,  and  even 
in  the  remorse  of  the  wicked. 

How  such  dishonesty  may  and  must  mix  itself  with 
every  activity  of  the  man  when  once  he  has  chosen  a 
wrong  supreme  end,  we  saw  in  the  sixth  lecture.  That 
this  should  ever  be  done  is  the  mystery  of  sin.  But 
being  done,  the  end  becomes,  of  necessity,  the  standard 
of  action.  To  that,  as  supreme,  everything  must  give 
place.  Now  there  begins  a  moral  twilight  tending  to  thick 
darkness.  In  proportion  as  the  conscience  shall  act,  the 
man  must  be  at  war  with  himself,  and  henceforth,  if  he 
would  have  peace,  conscience  must  be  either  evaded  or 
quieted.  Hence  the  infinite  subtleties  of  self-deception ; 
hence  the  agitations  and  conflicts  when  the  conscience 
will  speak.  Under  such  circumstances  it  is  not  difficult 
to  account  for  any  perversion  or  delusion.  The  man  is  in 
a  position  wholly  false  either  for  action  or  comprehension. 
He  acts  in  twilight,  and  studies  astronomy  from  the  planet 
Neptune. 

Thus  situated,  men  fail  to  form  habits  of  moral  reflec- 
tion, neither  considering  nor  regarding  what  is  right.  They 
are  governed  by  sense,  by  desire,  by  passion,  and  conscience 
is  held  in  abeyance.  It  is  ignored.  The  tribunal  is  there, 
but  the  cases  are  not  brought  before  it. 

Individuals  and  communities  have  also  the  power  to  set 
up  false  standards  which  are  in  morals  what  the  shrines  of 
idolatry  are  in  religion.  By  these  everything  is  tested,  and 
what  they  call  conscience,  and  its  vocabulary,  are  prosti- 
tuted to  the  service  of  evil.  The  law  is  read  falsely,  and 
the  sentence  is  according  to  the  law  as  read.  Let  a  man 
believe  that  the  law  of  God  forbids  his  eating  meat  during 
liCnt,  and  if  he  eat  it  his  conscience  will  reproach  him  as 


2l4  LECttJRES  ON  MORAL  SClfiNCJfi. 

if  he  had  committed  a  real  crime ;  while  the  samo  man 
may,  as  the  inquisitors  did,  torture  and  kill  heretics,  not 
only  without  remorse,  but  with  self-complacency.  There 
is  no  fanaticism,  or  bigotry,  or  folly,  that  does  not  become 
more  cruel,  or  intense,  or  absurd,  under  the  guidance  of  a 
perverted  conscience.  It  is  this  element  that  has  given 
their  peculiar  ferocity  to  religious  wars,  and  that  is  apt  to 
make  religious  disputes  so  acrid  and  virulent.  Certainly 
men  fail  to  come  to  the  light,  and  they  "  put  evil  for  good, 
and  good  for  evil." 

It  is  plain,  from  the  above,  that  to  do  right  will  be  a 
very  different  thing,  as  we  mean  by  it  the  choice  of  a  right 
supreme  end,  and  the  determination  through  that  of  all 
subordinate  choices;  or  as  we' have  reference  to  some  sub- 
ordinate standard,  as  of  fashion  or  popularity,  which  we 
may  have  adopted.  According  to  one  meaning,  to  do 
right  would  be  to  fulfil  all  righteousness ;  according  to  the 
other,  most  men  can  say,  as  they  do,  that  they  "  mean  to 
do  what  is  about  right."  This  they  may  do  in  particular 
instances,  and  often,  and  yet  their  radical  character  be 
wholly  wrong. 

Of  the  diversity  of  moral  judgments,  then,  great  as  it 
seems,  we  may  say,  first,  that  there  are,  according  to  what 
has  been  stated  above,  many  supposed  cases  of  such  diver- 
sity that  are  not  really  such.  From  the  complexity  of  the 
cases  presented,  and  the  limitation  of  the  human  faculties, 
men  apprehend  imperfectly,  and  so  differently,  facts  and 
their  relations.  Of  this  difference  in  intellectual  judgment 
a  differing  moral  judgment  is  the  result,  but  this  implies 
no  want  of  uniformity  in  the  action  of  the  moral  nature. 
Nor,  second,  do  the  apparent  vagaries  of  conscience  when 
men  are  dishonest  with  themselves,  imply  any  want  of  uni- 
formity in  its  action.    If  men  will  put  on  spectacles  with 


DIVERSITY  OP  JUDGMENT.  215 

differently  colored  glasses,  it  is  not  the  fault  of  their  eyes 
if  the  confusion  and  disputes  are  endless.  Let  them  take 
off  their  glasses  and  they  will  see  alike.  But,  third,  the 
law  of  use  and  of  improvement  by  exercise  applies  to  the 
moral  powers,  and  under  this  there  may  be  a  real  diversity 
to  a  certain  extent.  A  conscience  well  trained  will  utter 
itself  with  greater  promptness,  and  energy,  and  precision, 
than  one  that  is  not. 

This  diversity  of  judgment  under  one  guiding  principle 
we  find  in  taste  as  well  as  in  morals.  Men  are  born  with 
some  natural  power  of  apprehending  beauty.  Of  this  they 
judge  ;  this  they  wish  to  produce.  But  when  the  question 
comes  to  be  what  is  beautiful  in  any  particular  case,  there 
are  great  differences  of  opihion.  At  this  point  it  is  that 
the  practical  questions  arise.  "Will  you  build  a  square 
house  or  a  gothic  cottage?  Will  you  paint  it  white  or 
brown  ?  Will  you  lay  out  your  grounds  regularly,  or  ir- 
regularly, or  with  a  regular  irregularity  ?  To  such  que8% 
tions  no  original  faculty  necessitating  the  idea  and  the 
emotion  of  beauty  can  furnish  an  answer.  Taste  must  be 
cultivated  in  accordance  with  principles  and  standards ;  and 
such  cultivation  will  make  all  the  difference  in  decoration 
and  in  art  between  the  tawdriness  and  finery  of  the  savage 
and  the  perfection  of  taste.  In  connection  with  the  study 
of  these  principles  and  the  application  of  these  standards, 
there  will  arise,  as  in  morals,  different  schools  of  art,  each 
having  its  own  merits,  and  gaining  a  supremacy  more  or 
less  wide  and  pennanent. 

We  have  thus,  both  in  aesthetics  and  in  morals,  original 
capacitieis  which  act  uniformly  to  a  certain  extent.  In 
both  there  is  an  original  intuition,  but  this  was  never  in- 
j,ended  to  supersede  the  necessity  for  careful  training. 
Kui>ecially  was  it  intended  that  there  should  be  in  th« 


216  LECTURES  OK  MO^AL  science. 

highest  department  of  conduct,  that  of  morality  and  of 
duty,  the  highest  possible  combination  of  the  intuitional 
element  with  the  results  of  induction,  thus  giving  the 
broadest  practical  wisdom.  The  intuitive  elfcaient  must 
be  obeyed,  but  what  does  it  say  ?  In  the  one  case  it  says, 
produce  the  highest  beauty ;  in  the  other,  do  all  the  good 
you  can.  For  these  no  consultation  is  needed  with  any 
one,  and  no  advice.  But  when  the  practical  question 
comes  whether  a  young  man  engaged  in  mercantile  busi- 
ness shall  give  it  up  to  prepare  for  the  gospel  ministry, 
something  more  is  needed.  Here  the  inductive  element 
comes  in.  It  will  depend  upon  his  age,  his  talents,  his 
means,  upon  those  dependent  upon  him,  or  likely  to  be ; 
and  upon  this  he  may  properly  ask  advice.  Of  this  kind 
are  most  practical  questions.  Nothing  can  be  more  try- 
ing than  the  suspense  and  nice  balancings  these  often  re- 
quire ;  and  when  the  decisions  are  made,  they  will  be 
kthose  of  beings  limited  and  imperfect,  liable  to  mistake 
even  where  there  is  no  sin.  Respecting  decisions  of  this 
kind  men  need  much  mutual  forbearance  in  judging  of 
each  other.  It  is  seldom  that  we  can  put  ourselves  fully 
in  the  place  of  another,  and  no  general  rule  can  be  laid 
down.  We  can  only  say,  with  the  wise  man,  that  "  wis- 
dom is  profitable  to  direct." 

In  connection  with  these  two  spheres  of  judgment,  the 
intuitional  and  the  inductive,  I  would  call  your  attention 
to  the  two  great  crises  in  the  life  of  every  young  man,  — 
of  most  persons,  indeed,  who  come  to  maturity,  —  and  to 
the  very  different  character  of  the  elements  and  questions 
they  involve. 

The  first  and  great  crisis  is  that  which  involves  the 
whole  of  duty  and  of  destiny  under  the  government  of 
God.    In  the  life  of  every  one  much  instructed  a  point  is 


CRISES  OP  LIFE.  217 

reached  when  the  question  consciously  arises  respecting  a 
supreme  end.  It  is  found  that  a  wrong  one  has  been 
chosen,  —  shall  there  be  a  change?  The  question  here  is 
between  two  things  different  in  kind  and  utterly  incom- 
patible. It  is  one  of  giving  and  receiving.  Shall  the  per- 
son give  himself  up  in  love  to  the  service  of  God  and 
man  ?  or  shall  he  regard  Go^  and  men  as  means  through 
which  he  may  receive  what  he  desires?  The  question 
may  not  be  thus  stated,  but  it  involves  this ;  and  there  are 
no  balancings,  and  agitations,  and  suspense,  like  those  often 
connected  with  its  decision.  Here  the  intuitional  element 
and  the  will  are  alone  concerned.  The  question  is  not  one 
of  means,  but  of  ends.  It  is  aloof  from  the  relations  of 
time.  There  is  no  place  for  induction  or  call  for  advice. 
Neither  is  there  room  for  doubt.  Intuitively,  perempto- 
rily, persistently,  the  conscience  affirms  obligation.  It  is 
now  proximate  to  the  will,  and  these  are  like  two  vessels 
grappled  in  conflict.  They  are  the  Monitor  and  the  Mer- 
rimac.  The  question  is  one  of  simple  obedience.  Will 
the  will  yield,  or  will  it  not  ?  Will  the  man  come  into 
harmony  with  himself  and  with  God,  or  will  he  not? 
This  question  no  one  can  decide  for  another,  and  the  act 
required  is  so  simple  and  elementary  that  no  one  can  tell 
another  how  to  do  it.  To  attempt  this,  as  is  often  done,  is 
like  attempting  to  define  an  elementary  notion.  This,  if 
the  question  is  to  be  decided  once  for  all,  is  the  crisis  not 
only  for  this  life,  but  for  the  whole  of  existence. 

The  second  great  crisis  in  the  life  of  a  young  man  comes 
when  he  is  to  decide  on  his  profession,  that  is,  on  the  par- 
ticular form  and  direction  of  his  activity  under  the  general 
choice  previously  made.  On  this  will  depend  not  merely 
the  amount,  but  the  kind  of  good  he  will  do,  the  books 
19 


218  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

he  will  read,  his  professional  friendships,  the  line  of  his 
thoughts,  and  the  principles  of  their  association. 

The  question  here,  it  is  often  supposed,  is  to  be  deter- 
mined by  conscience ;  but  if  the  previous  question  has 
been  fully  settled,  conscience  has,  in  strictness,  nothing  to 
do  with  it.  The  simple  question  will  be,  in  one  case,  how 
we  can  do  the  greatest  amouht  of  good ;  and  in  the  other, 
how  we  can  best  subserve  our  own  private  ends.  These 
are  questions  of  comparison  and  judgment  involving  many 
particulars.  Men  equally  conscientious  might  decide  them 
differently,  and  with  them  conscience  has  nothing  to  do, 
unless  it  be  to  sectire  for  them  a  careful  and  candid  atten- 
tion. The  process  is  like  that  by  which  we  find  the  minor 
proposition  of  a  syllogism.  We  inquire  whether  a  partic- 
ular proposition  comes  under  another  that  is  more  general. 

The  distinctions  above  made  will  enable  us  to  account 
in  part  for  the  confusion  there  has  been  in  our  moral  phi- 
losophy, and  particularly  for  the  prominence  given  to  right, 
and  the  right,  as  distinguished  from  the  good. 

The  choice  of  a  supreme  end  is  generic.  It  is  made 
once,  in  a  sense  only  once.  In  a  sense,  too,  it  is  made 
always,  constantly  repeated,  since  it  is  only  under  this  that 
other  choices  are  made.  It  is  like  the  light  of  conscious- 
ness, and  would  naturally  be  the  last  thing  investigated. 
Indeed,  as  consciousness  is  the  generic  form  of  intelli- 
gence, and  the  desire  of  happiness  that  of  the  desires,  and 
love  that  of  the  affections,  so  the  choice  of  a  supreme  end 
is  the  generic  form  of  volition.  It  enters  into  all  the 
others ;  they  are  made  in  its  light  and  partake  of  its  char- 
acter. In  respect  to  this  the  affirmation  of  obligation  is 
not  constantly  repeated  in  any  specific  form,  and  may  be 
Bcarcely  thought  of  for  years.  But  the  affirmation  of  obli- 
gation as  connected  with  right,  or  what  is  supposed  to  be 


CONSCIENCE  AS  A  MOTIVE.  219 

BO,  is  constantly  made,  as  it  is  concerning  that  that  practi- 
cal questions  and  discussions  constantly  arise.  Hence  it 
has  attracted  the  chief  attention.  The  immediate  ques- 
tion, and  that  on  which  the  obligation  would  turn,  has 
been  one  of  right,  and  hence  the  idea  of  right  in  its  rela- 
tion to  obligation  has  been  supposed  to  be  ultimate.  It  is 
ultimate  only  as  the  seaport  is  ultimate  where  eveiything 
is  stopped,  examined,  exchanged,  but  which  would  be  no 
seaport  at  all  but  for  the  ocean  beyond.  If  there  were 
nothing  good,  no  end  to  be  chosen,  there  would  be  noth- 
ing right.  The  only  question  is  whether  the  right  is  the 
good. 

We  next  inquire  after  the  relation  of  conscience  to  the 
other  active  principles.  How  far  should  it  be  merely  reg- 
ulative, and  how  far  a  positive  principle  of  action  ? 

A  philosophy  of  ends  requires  for  the  person  that  which 
we  find  in  all  nature  below  it,  a  good  which  shall  result 
from  the  congruity  of  itself  with  that  in  which  its  good  is 
found,  and  which  shall  come  immediately  from  the  activity 
of  the  one  in  its  relation  to  the  other.  Everywhere  there 
is  duality.  In  vegetable  life  there  is  the  living  seed,  there 
is  moisture,  air,  and  warmth,  and  there  is  growth.  In  sen- 
sitive life  there  is  the  eye,  and  there  is  light,  and  from 
these,  vision.  Not  from  the  eye  alone,  or  from  light  alone, 
does  seeing  come,  but  from  the  two  in  right  relations. 
Seeing  is  not  a  thing,  a  being,  but  a  product  and  result  of 
vitality  acting  according  to  its  laws.  Of  that  inward  con- 
stitution and  congruity  by  which  the  eye  and  light  are 
adapted  to  each  other  we  know  nothing.  We  only  know 
the  facts,  and  the  conditions,  or  laws  of  the  facts.  So 
again  in  the  appetites.  There  is  hunger,  and  there  is 
food.  The  enjoyment  is  not  from  the  appetite  alone,  or 
fo>m  the  food  alone,  but  from  both  in  the  right  relation. 


220  LECTUBfiS  01^  MOftAL  SCIENCE. 

In  the  mental  world  there  is  the  knowing  mind  and  tha 
object  known.  Knowledge  is  not  from  the  mind  without 
the  object,  nor  from  the  object  without  the  mind,  but  is 
the  result  of  the  two  in  the  relations  intended  by  God. 
The  same  holds  in  the  affections  and  the  will.  There 
is  the  love  and  the  object  loved,  the  will  and  the  thing 
willed,  the  choice  and  the  thing  chosen,  and  the  blessed- 
ness is  not  the  result  of  the  mind  alone  or  of  the  object 
alone,  but  of  the  right  relations  of  the  two. 

And  here,  as  we  reach  enjoyment  from  love,  I  wish  to 
notice  a  peculiarity,  which,  according  to  our  previous  prin- 
ciple of  classification,  must  place  that  higher  than  any 
other,  at  least  when  it  is  in  its  fulness.  It  is  higher,  not 
merely  as  the  product  of  our  highest  powers,  but  as  more 
complex.  It  has  the  element  of  reciprocity.  It  is  not 
simply  because  personal  beings  are  higher  and  intrinsically 
more  excellent  than  others,  or  that  we  can  have  affections 
for  them  specific  and  peculiar,  that  the  activity  of  our 
faculties  when  they  are  the  object  can  give  us  a  higher 
joy,  but  because  they  are  capable  of  the  conscious  recogni- 
tion and  reciprocation  of  that  affection.  Hardly  less  than 
the  joy  of  loving  is  that  of  being  beloved.  Here  we  find 
the  necessity  of  each  for  all,  and  of  all  for  each,  and  the 
foundation  for  the  highest  good  of  all  and  of  each.  The 
highest  conceivable  good  must  be  from  a  conscious  and 
perfect  accordance  of  the  will  and  moral  affections  with 
those  of  a  being  of  infinite  excellence  who  should  recog- 
nize and  reciprocate  the  affection. 

In  all  this  it  will  be  observed  that  the  relation  of  the 
faculties  and  their  objects  is  immediate  and  direct. 

But  with  such  a  constitution  in  perfect  adjustment  it  is 
plain  that  the  office  of  conscience,  if  required  at  all,  would 
be  simply  regulative.    We  have  provision  here  for  activity 


OFFICE  OF  CONSCIENCE.  221 

throughout  its  whole  range,  without  the  conscience.  We 
are  not  to  eat  from  conscience,  else  why  the  appetite? 
The  affections  are  not  to  act  from  conscience,  else  they 
would  not  be  original  parts  of  our  nature.  It  is  not  the 
office  of  conscience  to  supersede  any  of  the  natural  prin- 
ples  of  action,  nor  can  it  ever  lead  to  action  except  as 
there  are  grounds  for  that  action  furnished  by  principles 
other  than  itself  In  this  respect  it  is  analogous  to  self- 
love.  Its  office  is  to  affirm  obligation  to  choose  in  a  par- 
ticular way.  The  grounds  of  choice  are  presupposed. 
Hence  the  double  function  of  our  moral  nature.  As  a 
condition  for  the  action  of  conscience  man  has  the  power, 
in  virtue  of  his  moral  reason  and  of  the  affections  grow- 
ing out  of  it,  to  apprehend  the  end  which  he  ought  to 
choose,  and  he  is  drawn  towards  the  beings  whom  he  ought 
to  love.  This  end  he  apprehends  and  chooses,  these  beings 
he  appreciates  and  loves,  as  a  moral  being,  not  merely  from 
a  sense  of  obligation,  but  from  their  inherent  worth  or 
excellency.  Acting  in  the  light  of  moral  reason,  from  the 
play  of  the  moral  affections,  and  in  the  exercise  of  free- 
dom, man  is  a  moral  being ;  but  as  there  is  an  alternative, 
and  he  is  liable  to  choose  wrongly,  the  moral  nature  would 
not  be  complete  if  there  were  not  an  affirmation  of  obliga- 
tion to  choose  the  good  apprehended  -by  the  moral  reason, 
and  towards  which  the  affections  were  drawn.  But  con- 
science is  that  function  of  the  moral  reason  by  which  it 
affirms  obligation  to  choose  primarily  the  good,  and  sec- 
ondarily the  right,  from  its  apprehended  relation  to  that. 
This  is  its  function  before  the  act.  Subsequently  there  are 
evolved  its  rewarding  and  punishing,  and  its  prophetio 
power. 

We  have,  then,  as  a  condition  for  the  action  of  con- 
science iu  affirming  obligation,  not  the  mere  perception  by 
19* 


222  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

the  intellect  of  external  relations,  but  those  primiJ  acts  of 
affection  and  choice  which  are  involved  in  our  very  con- 
ception of  ourselves  as  acting,  and  which  spring  from  that 
which  is  deepest  and  most  sacred  in  our  nature.  As 
means  of  fulfilling  the  obligations  thus  affirmed  when  ac- 
tions other  than  the  mere  choice  are  required,  Ve  have  the 
perception  of  actions  as  right,  sometimes  apparently  intui- 
tive, but  often  clearly  the  reverse,  and  in  which  we  are 
liable  to  great  mistakes. 

We  may  now  see  when  the  action  of  conscience,  is 
required ;  when  it  is  merely  regulative,  and  when  it  be- 
comes a  direct  impulse  to  action.  Let  a  man,  as  has  been 
said,  eat  from  appetite.  This  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  his 
eating.  His  appetite  was  given  that  he  might  eat.  There 
will  be  no  need  of  conscience  here,  except  as  assenting, 
or  as  there  may  be  room  for  doubt  respecting  the  quan- 
tity or  quality  of  what  is  to  be  eaten.  On  both  these 
points  a  man  is  bound  to  use  his  best  knowledge,  and  if 
there  be  reason  to  suspect  anything  injurious,  conscience 
will  say  no.  It  will  become  the  veto  power  of  the  mind. 
Self-love  may  forbid  it  as  opposed  to  individual  interest, 
but  conscience  will  pronounce  it  wrong  as  opposed  to  the 
great  law  of  love. 

If  we  might  suppose  the  appetite  so  constituted  as  to 
crave  nothing  injurious,  there  would  be  no  need  of  super- 
vision by  either  self-love  or  conscience,  and  such  need 
must  be  in  proportion  to  the  want  of  autonomy  in  the 
appetite.  The  above  is  the  law  for  all  natural  appetites 
and  principles  of  action  that  are  sufficiently  strong  to 
induce  all  the  action  in  their  line  that  is  required  by  their 
ends.  The  office  of  conscience  will,  then,  be  simply  to  say 
no,  if  there  be  a  tendency  to  excessive  or  perverted  action. 
But  if  any  faculty  or  impulse,  as  the  desire  of  knowledge, 


CONSCIENCE  —  RESTRAINING  AND  IMPELLING.        223 

be  not  strong  enough,  then  it  may  and  should  be  put  at 
work  under  the  imperative  of  duty.  Then  conscience 
not  merely  says  no,  —  it  impels ;  it  becomes  a  task-master. 
In  such  cases,  however,  we  feel  it  to  be  unfortunate  and 
undesirable  that  the  action  of  conscience  should  be  needed. 
The  faculties  do  not  work  cheerfully,  but  as  under  a  yoke. 
We  prefer  that  a  sense  of  duty  should  be  required  to 
restrain  a  boy  from  study,  rather  than  to  impel  him  to  it. 
This  holds  true  of  all  the  instrumental  powers.  They 
have  no  moral  character,  except  as  the  man  accepts  and 
directs  them,  and  we  prefer  to  see  them  full  and  redundant, 
rather  than  meagre.  But  when  we  reach  the  directive, 
and  especially  the  moral  powers,  the  relation  i^  different. 
Here  conscience  does  not  come  in  as  a  power  from  with- 
out, standing  above  the  faculty,  but  as  part  of  a  circle  of 
activity  that  is  necessary  for  the  completeness  of  the  whole. 
In  all  life  there  is  a  circle,  every  part  of  which  implies 
every  other.  We  may  treat  of  respiration  separately,  but 
it  involves  circulation  and  digestion,  and  there  is  no  life 
without  each.  So  in  the  moral  life.  We  may  treat  of  the 
apprehension  of  good  and  the  power  of  choice  apart  from 
conscience,  but  all  are  necessary  to  life.  Hence,  in  a  nat- 
ural, that  is  in  a  right  state,  a  sense  of  obligation  will  so 
coalesce  with  moral  affection  as  not  to  produce  constraint, 
but  rather  to  heighten  joy.  It  will  be  as  the  seal  of  a  bond 
to  which  we  set  our  names  with  an  unwavering  confidence 
and  an  ineffable  delight.  Between  the  affections  and  the 
conscience  there  will  be  full  consent,  and  there  is  not  a  note 
in  the  harmony  that  goes  up  from  the  full  action  of  the 
moral  powers  that  is  more  pervading  and  would  be  more 
missed  than  that  from  an  approving  conscience.  It  is  in  a 
ipring  of  affection,  coordinate  with  the  affirmation  of  obli- 


224  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

gation,  that  we  have  a  marriage  of  strength  and  beauty, 
whose  fruit  is  blessedness. 

That  the  moral  nature  does  not,  like  the  other  powers, 
work  under  a  yoke  in  the  presence  of  obligation,  but 
simply  finds  its  own  completeness,  it  is  important  to  see, 
because  there  is  a  prevalent  impression  that  there  is  in  all 
obligation  something  of  constraint.  It  is  an  objection  to 
the  system  that  makes  the  right  ultimate,  that,  as  based  on 
a  mere  abstraction,  it  furnishes  no  object  for  the  affections, 
and  moves  us  through  its  imperative  by  constraining  and 
driving,  rather  than  by  attracting  us.  In  our  conception 
of  a  perfect  being  the  law  is  not  known  as  an  outward 
and  constraining  force,  but  there  is  a  coincidence  with  it 
of  inclination  and  of  will  by  which  perfect  obedience 
becomes  perfect  freedom.  Love  is  free  and  directly  from 
a  view  of  its  object;  but  "love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the 
law." 

Seeing  thus  the  relation  of  conscience  as  a  motive  to 
the  other  active  powers,  let  us  look  at  the  gradation  and 
possible  complexity  of  motives  in  human  action.  The 
gradation  of  motives  will  follow  from  that  of  the  powers, 
and  will  be  in  accordance  with  it.  Motives  will  be  higher 
or  lower  as  the  powers  are  from  which  they  spring,  and 
both  virtues  and  vices  will  be  designated  from  the  sphere 
of  activity  that  is  rightly  directed,  or  abused.  A  man 
abusing  the  sensitive  part  of  his  nature  is  sensual ;  rightly 
using  it,  he  is  temperate.  Abusing  the  desire  for  power, 
he  is  selfishly  ambitious ;  rightly  using  it,  he  is  beneficent. 
Throughout,  both  virtues  and  vices  are  designated  by  the 
activities  employed.  If  there  are  not  high  vices,  there  are 
those  that  are  low,  and  some  virtues  are  higher  than 
others. 

Of  the  possible  complexity  of  motives  we  may  gain  a 


COMPLEXITY   OP  MOTIVES.  225 

correct  view  if  we  suppose  a  father  to  command  his  child 
to  get  a  lesson.  Here  there  is,  firsts  between  the  mind  of 
the  child  and  knowledge  a  natural  congruity,  and  he  may 
get  the  lesson  from  a  simple  love  of  the  knowledge.  It 
may  be  just  what  he  would  have  done  without  any  com- 
mand. But  the  parent  says  further,  —  If  you  get  the  les- 
son it  will  aid  you  in  getting  a  living ;  you  shall  have  my 
approbation,  and  I  will  express  that  by  a  reward.  If  you 
do  not  get  it  you  shall  have  my  disapprobation,  and  I  will 
express  that  by  punishment. 

Now,  between  tht)  mind  of  the  child  and  the  approba- 
tion of  the  parent  there  is  a  congruity;  It  is  right  for  him 
to  desire  that  approbation.  The  reward  itself  may  be  one 
that  would  appeal  to  the  legitimate  desii-es  and  which  it 
would  be  right  to  seek,  and  the  reverse  may  be  said  of  tho 
disapprobation  and  the  punishment. 

We  have,  then,  as  motives,  1st.  Love  of  knowledge  for 
its  own  sake.  2d.  A  desire  for  it  as  useful  in  gaining  a 
living.  3d.  A  desire  of  the  reward.  4th.  Fear  of  punish- 
ment. 5th.  Regard  for  the  authority  of  the  parent.  6th. 
A  love  of  his  approbation.  7th.  Dread  of  his  disapproba- 
tion.    8th.  The  affirmation  by  conscience  of  obligation. 

Of  these  each  is  legitimate, — is  appropriate  to  a  rational 
being,  —  is  right.  Each  may  take  its  turn,  or  they  may 
conspire  together ;  and  if  from  any  one  or  all  of  them  the 
lesson  should  be  learned  the  parent  might  be  satisfied. 
Still,  it  must  be  rememberec]  that  the  ultimate  character  of 
the  mind  in  every  movement  relative  to  these  motives  will 
be  determined  by  that  generic  act  of  choice  under  which 
they  all  take  place.  The  motives  may  be  objectively  right, 
but  the  man  not  subjectively  right  in  being  governed  by 
them. 

If  the  preceding  remarks,  or  indeed  the  general  doctrine 


226  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

of  these  lectures,  be  correct,  they  will  go  far  to  determine 
the  question  whether  in  order  to  be  virtuous  an  act  must 
be  done  from  a  sense  of  duty.  On  this  point  distinguished 
thinkers  differ.  Chalmers  says  this  is  essential,  and,  as  is 
usual  with  him,  reiterates  and  enforces  the  point  in  a  va- 
riety of  ways.  "  It  is  not,"  says  he,  "  volition  alone  which 
makes  a  thing  virtuous,  but  volition  under  a  sense  of  duty ; 
and  that  only  is  a  moral  performance  to  which  a  man  is 
urged  by  a  sense  or  feeling  of  moral  obligation."  Again 
he  says,  "  Whatever  cometh  not  of  a  sense  of  duty  hath 
no  moral  character  of  itself,  and  no  moral  approbation  due 
to  it."  This  opinion  of  Chalmers  is  quoted  with  approba- 
tion by  McCosh.  On  the  other  hand,  Dr.  Woods  says,  "  It 
would  be  very  easy  to  show  that  moral  affection  may  exist 
in  one  who  has  at  the  time  no  distinct  apprehension  of  its 
nature,  and  no  present  feeling  of  approbation  or  disappro- 
bation." "I  say,  then,"  he  continues,  "it  is  not  essential 
to  our  moral  agency,  or  to  the  existence  of  moral  good 
and  evil  in  us,  that  we  should  at  the  time  have  a  distinct 
consideration  or  conception  of  a  moral  law,  or  a  sensible 
approbation  or  disapprobation  of  our  feelings  and  actions." 

This  inquiry  runs  back  to  the  constitution  of  the  moral 
nature  as  involving  any  other  element  than  that  of  riglit 
and  of  conscience,  and  to  the  question  whether  there  is 
anything  virtuous  in  the  moral  affections  and  the  will 
when  they  act  according  to  their  own  law,  and  directly 
with  reference  to  their  objects. 

That  there  is  something  thus  virtuous,  McCosh,  in  oppo- 
sition to  his  direct  assertion,  seems  everywhere  to  imply. 
Thus  he  says,  "  Much  of  human  wickedness  is  displayed  in 
the  ingenious  schemes  which  are  contrived  to  deceive  the 
moral  faculty  and  avoid  its  humbling  judgments."  This 
implies  something  having  wickedness,  and  yet  acting  inde- 


INHERENT   VIRTUE.  227 

pendently  of  the  moral  faculty.  Again,  he  says,  "Moral 
excellence  is  truly  the  whole  powers  and  affections  of  the 
sonl  in  healthy  exercise,  and  in  order  to  guard  it  there  is  a 
faculty  with  a  train  of  corresponding  feelings,  presiding 
over  all  the  other  faculties  and  seated  in  the  very  heart." 
This  implies  excellence  before  it  can  be  guarded.  Again, 
he  says  expressly  that  "  the  moral  quality  is  not  given  to 
the  action  by  the  mind  contemplating  it."  "  It  is  not  our 
perception  and  approbation  that  renders  a  benevolent  ac- 
tion good,  but  we  perceive  its  excellence  and  approve  it 
because  it  is  good." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  moral  actions  are  done 
except  under  moral  law  and  some  generic  choice  of  good 
or  evil.  But  as  a  vicious  man  does  not  do  evil  actions  be- 
canse  of  their  viciousness,  so  neither  would  it  seem  neces- 
sary that  a  good  man  should  do  good  actions  because  of 
their  virtuousness ;  at  least  it  cannot  be  implied,  as  it 
seems  to  be  in  the  statement  of  Chalmers,  that  a  sense  of 
obligation  is  the  only  virtuous  motive.  It  is  the  law  of 
the  affections  that  they  are  drawn  out  in  view  of  their 
object.  An  interested  love  is  impossible.  Only  from  an 
apprehension  of  some  quality  in  the  being  loved  can  love 
come.  The  love  of  God  may  imply  virtue.  It  does  so. 
But  the  love  cannot  be  in  view  of  its  own  virtuousness,  or 
with  the  thought  of  that,  but  must  be  in  view  of  eithei 
the  worth  or  the  worthiness  of  God. 


LECTURE    X. 

kBCTTTUOE    AND    VIRTUE.  —  RELATIONS EXPEDIENCY,   PRUDENCE,    AND 

VIRTUE.  — ORIGIN  OF  MORAL  DISTINCTIONS  AS  RELATED  TO  THE  DIVINE 
NATURE.  —  COINCIDENCE  OF  INSTINCT  AND  REASON  —  OF  FAITH  ANI> 
REASON  — OF  PHILOSOPHY  AND  RELIGION. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  observing  a  moral  act 
we  went  backward  to  its  source.  In  so  doing  we  found  a 
moral  constitution.  That  constitution  we  have  examined, 
and  have  found  its  end  and  law.  In  doing  this  we  consid- 
ered those  voluntary  states  of  mind  which  are  in  them- 
selves good  or  evil,  virtuous  or  vicious. 

We  know  immediately  and  intuitively  that  love  is  good, 
and  malignity  evil ;  and  it  is  inconceivable  that  their  na- 
ture should  be  changed  by  any  will.  They  are  opposites, 
as  are  light  and  darkness,  hardness  and  softness ;  one.  may 
give  place  to  the  other,  but  can  never  become  the  other. 
This,  I  suppose,  is  what  is  meant  by  the  eternal  and  immu- 
table distinctions  of  morals. 

It  was  then  said  that  in  passing  outwards  from  a  moral 
action  we  found  right  and  wrong,  utility,  expediency,  gen- 
eral consequences.  It  will  be  next  in  order  to  examine 
these,  and  to  inquire  how  far  their  claims  may  be  recon- 
ciled with  those  of  virtue  without  confounding  the  two. 

As  has  been  said,  right  is  often  used  as  synonymous  with 
virtuous,  and  wrong  with  vicious.  The  right,  also,  seems 
to  be  used  as  synonymous  with  moral  goodness ;  at  least 
if  that  be  not  its  meaning  I  am  unable  to  say  what  it  is. 
But  by  right  is  also  meant  conformity  to  a  rule  or  law, 

223 


NATURAL  GOVERNMENT.  229 

tendency  to  an  end,  accordance  with  fixed  relations,  and 
by  wrong,  the  reverse.  "Right  and  wrong,"  says  Dr. 
Wayland,  "  depend  upon  the  relations  nnder  which  beings 
are  created,  and  are  invariable."  In  this  sense  actions 
may  be  right  or  wrong  without  reference  to  the  character 
or  intention  of  the  agent.  In  the  first  sense  they  cannot, 
and  the  trouble  has  been  that  these  terms  have  been  used, 
now  to  indicate  virtue  as  originating  in  will,  and  now  to 
indicate  a  quality,  sometimes  called  moral,  that  has  no  ref- 
erence to  intention.  So  far  as  they  are  used  in  the  fii*st 
sense  we  have  already  considered  them,  or  rather  that 
which  they  indicate ;  it  is  in  the  second  sense  that  they 
now  claim  our  attention. 

Plainly  the  results  of  human  conduct  in  this  life  are  not 
determined  solely  by  the  dispositions  and  intentions  from 
which  they  spring.  We  live  under  a  natural  as  well  as 
under  a  moral  government,  and  the  first-is  the  instrument, 
frame-work,  and  prophecy  of  the  second.  We  are  sur- 
rounded by  other  beings,  and  by  an  external  nature  that  is 
complicated,  involving  numerous  substances,  and  forces, 
and  laws.  These  beings,  this  nature,  these  substances,  and 
forces,  and  laws,  have  a  determinate  constitution  in  accord- 
ance with  which  we  may  act  upon  them  and  they  upon 
us,  and  this  action,  at  least  so  far  as  nature  is  concerned, 
will  not  be  afiected  by  our  state  of  mind  as  good  or  evil, 
or  by  any  intention  that  may  spring  from  that.  Between 
ns  and  external  nature  there  are  fixed  relations,  and  the 
result  will  depend  upon  our  acting  or  not  acting  in  ac- 
cordance with  those  relations. 

A  being  wholly  virtuous  may  act  in  entire  accordance 
with  the  nature  of  the  beings  and  substances  around  him, 
and  then  the  whole  result  will  be  right  and  good.  Again, 
with  character  unchanged,  but  ignorant  of  the  relations  in 

20 


230  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

which  he  is  placed,  the  same  being  may  so  act  as  to  pro* 
duce  suffering  to  himself,  or  others,  or  both.  He  may 
intend  to  preserve  his  health,  but  be  ignorant,  and  una- 
voidably so,  of  the  effect  of  a  want  of  ventilation,  and  in 
consequence  may  live  for  years  in  debility  and  suffering. 
Such  a  person  would  not  act  in  accordance  with  "the 
nature  of  things ; "  or,  as  it  has  sometimes  been  expressed, 
with  "the  fitness  of  things;"  or,  as  it  has  been  expressed 
again,  with  "the  truth  of  things;"  or,  once  again,  with 
"  the  relations  in  Avhich  he  was  placed." 

From  the  very  nature  of  man  it  is  impossible  he  should 
act  except  in  some  relation.  Hence  the  consideration  of 
relations  —  not  merely  of  things  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
but  in  their  relations  —  must  always  enter  into  our  esti- 
mate both  of  propriety  and  of  duty. 

So  numerous,  indeed,  and  complex  are  these  relations, 
and  so  intimately  is  their  right  adjustment  connected  with 
human  well-being,  that  not  a  few  moralists  have  supposed 
moral  obligation,  and  so  the  whole  science  of  morals,  to 
be  founded  on  them.  "  It  is  fit,"  says  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke, 
"that  man  should  obey  God,  and  therefore  he  ought  to 
obey  him."  It  is  true,  according  to  Wollaston,  that  fresh 
air  is  needed  for  health,  and  he  who  acts  as  if  it  were  not, 
acts  a  lie,  and  therefore  does  wrong.  "  The  relation  of  pa- 
rent and  child,"' says  Dr.Wayland,  "is  constituted  by  God, 
therefore  men  are  bound  to  act  in  accordance  with  that 
relation."  He  asserts,  moreover,  that  the  sense  of  obliga- 
tion arises  immediately  on  the  perception  of  the  relation. 

But  it  does  not  seem  to  be  true,  it  may  be  observed 
here,  that  a  child  is  bound  to  obey  his  parent  simply  be- 
cause he  is  his  parent.  A  parent  may  be  an  idiot,  or 
insane,  or  intoxicated,  or  wholly  abandoned  to  vice,  and 
then  the  law  makes  provision  for  the  guardianship  of  the 


RELATIONS.  231 

child,  that  is,  for  placing  him  where  he  need  not  obty  the 
parent.  The  sole  reason  why  the  child  is  to  obey  the 
parent  is  the  presumption  that  the  end  for  which  God 
made  him  will  be  thus  best  secured.  If  it  could  be  cer- 
tainly known  that  that  end  would  thus  be  defeated,  the 
child  would  not  be  under  obligation  to  obey,  but  the  re- 
verse. Relations  cannot  indicate  what  is  good.  They 
may,  and  do,  what  is  right,  but  so  far  as  they  do  this  they 
may  all  be  reduced  to  one,  that  is,  the  relation  of  any  act 
which  a  moral  being  may  be  required  to  do,  to  his  end. 
So  absolutely  is  the  will  of  God  revealed  in  that,  that  it  is 
inconceivable  he  should  lay  a  being  under  obligation  to  do 
anything  not  in  accordance  with  his  highest  end. 

But  while  we  do  not  find  the  foundation  of  morals  in 
the  nature,  or  fituess,  or  truth  of  things,  or  in  any  mere 
relations,  we  may  not  overlook  the  important  part  which 
a  perception  of  these  was  intended  to  play  in  the  regula- 
tion of  human  conduct.  Not  only,  as  has  been  said,  may 
a  virtuous  man  fail  to  conform  to  the  nature  of  things,  or 
to  the  relations  in  which  he  is  placed,  and  thus  suffer ;  but 
a  man  not  virtuous  may  conform  to  them,  and  be  rewarded. 
Beneficial  effects  will  follow  without  respect  to  the  motive. 
There  is  a  sense  in  which  an  action  thus  conformed  to  the 
nature  of  things  is  right  although  the  motive  may  not  be 
good.  It  is,  as  we  say,  right  in  itself;  it  is  conformed  to 
the  nature  of  things;  it  is  fit,  and  suitable,  and  proper,  and 
what  ought  to  be  done.  Let  a  man  be  outwardly  honest ; 
let  him  pay  his  debts,  and  tell  the  truth,  and  though  he 
may  do  it  simply  because  he  thinks  honesty  the  best  policy, 
and  so  not  be  virtuous,  yet  the  acts  are  right  in  themselves, 
and  the  confidence  of  men  in  each  other  and  the  prosper- 
ity of  the  community  will  be  promoted  by  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  from  an  imperfect  apprehension  of  relations,  a 


232  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

person  may  take  the  redress  of  his  private  wrongs  into  his 
own  hands,  or  may  buy  and  sell  lottery  tickets,  or  intoxi- 
cating drinks,  or  perhaps  be  a  polygamist,  and  while  the 
motive  may  be  good,  that  will  not  prevent  the  disastrous 
effects  of  these  acts  as  wrong  in  themselves.  Sooner  or 
later  such  acts  will  work  out  their  own  retribution. 

It  cannot,  indeed,  be  too  clearly  seen  that  into  the  whole 
system  of  nature  as  related  to  us,  into  the  human  constitu- 
tion in  its  very  texture,  into  the  constitution  of  society, 
there  are  not  only  inwrought  laws  of  reward  for  conform- 
ity to  relations  and  fixed  laws,  but  also  laws  of  retribution 
that  seem  to  execute  themselves.  Violate  a  law  of  nature 
by  stepping  from  a  precipice,  and  you  fall ;  violate  a  law 
of  your  organization  by  intemperance,  and  your  punish 
ment  will  be  in  proportion  to  the  offence.  And  so  of 
society.  Violate  the  law  of  its  organization  as  one  whole 
so  that  portions  of  that  whole  are  neglected  and  degraded, 
and  that  very  violation  will  work  out  a  sure  retribution. 
In  all  this  we  see  only  the  working  of  fixed  law  without 
regard  to  motives  or  character.  A  mistake  is  punished 
just  as  severely  as  a  wilful  violation  of  the  law. 

There  is  that  in  the  working  of  these  laws  that  is  pre- 
cisely as  if  there  were  a  moral  instinct  in  all  these  depart 
ments.  As  with  instinct,  let  everything  else  be  as  it 
should,  and  these  laws  will  work  right,  and  produce  only 
good ;  but  let  there  be  perversion  and  derangement,  and 
then,  like  instinct  again,  they  will  work  blindly  and  disas- 
trously. They  may  not  overturn,  but  will  utterly  disre- 
gard all  moral  distinctions. 

If,  now,  we  carry  the  working  of  these  laws  into  the 
mind,  we  shall  have  the  whole  of  what  many  believe  to  be 
the  moral  system  of  the  universe.  They  beheve  there  is 
no  reward  or  punishment  except  from  the  operation  of 


RESULTS  OF  GUILT  INCALCULABLE.  233 

fixed  laws,  and  know  nothing  of  a  personal  being  working 
within  or  through  those  laws.  Especially  do  they  know 
nothing  of  one  working  above  them. 

The  difference  between  those  who  do,  and  those  who  do 
not  recognize  a  personal  being  at  this  point  is  radical,  and 
forms  a  dividing  line,  not  only  between  schools,  but  be- 
tween individuals  in  their  habits  of  thought  who  know 
nothing  of  schools.  To  me  the  indications  of  a  moral  sys- 
tem in  these  laws  are  like  the  indications  of  reason  in 
instinct,  or  rather  lying  back  of  it,  and  needed  to  account 
for  it.  Taken  by  themselves,  they  are  a  mute,  imperfect, 
often  baffled'  expression,  not  so  much  of  the  thing  itself 
as  of  a  yearning  after  it.  They  are  the  harbinger  of  the 
thing,  a  beautiful  frame-work  into  which  a  perfect  virtue 
may  be  fitted.  But  a  system  thus  regardless  of  character, 
and  as  cold  and  remorseless  as  that  of  fate,  can  never  meet 
the  demands  of  either  the  conscience  or  the  affections. 

Of  acts  under  such  a  system,  whether  right  or  wrong,  the 
good  and  evil  results  may  be  calculated,  because  they  are 
wrought  out  within  and  by  the  system,  and  will  be  the 
same,  whether  intended  or  not.  But  the  results  of  virtue 
and  vice  cannot  be  calculated,  because  they  depend  imme- 
diately upon  will,  and  involve  the  principle's  of  a  moral 
government  that  has  an  extent  and  bearings  wholly  be- 
yond our  comprehension.  Here,  as  well  as  in  the  absence 
of  approbation  and  disapprobation,  is  a  great  difference 
between  this  system  and  one  truly  moral.  When  a  ra- 
tional being  wilfully  goes  against  the  laws  of  that  being; 
when  the  child  refuses  to  obey  his  father;  when  the  crea- 
ture knowingly  disregards  the  will  of  the  Creator,  it  is 
impossible  to  say  what  may  be  the  results.  Here  we  find, 
not  merely  a  mistake,  which  is  an  intellectual  crime, — 
not  merely  a  want  of  acting  in  conformity  with  fixed  and 


234  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

impereonal  law,  but  guilty  —  the  most  dreadful  word  and 
thing,  and  the  only  thing  to  be  really  dreaded,  in  the  uni- 
verse of  God. 

But  while  we  cannot  identify  what  is  right  with  what 
is  good,  they  are  yet  closely  allied.  Goodness  is  good  in 
itself.  Regarded  as  a  fundamental  choice  conformed  to 
moral  law,  it  is  also  right,  and  must  involve  a  disposition 
that  would  lead  to  the  doing  of  all  right  acts.  As  tend- 
ing, then,  to  produce  right  acts,  goodness  is  righteouS' 
ness ;  and  if  there  be  adequate  knowledge,  there  will  be 
in  all  its  acts  Tightness,  —  that  is,  an  entire  conformity  to 
all  fixed  relations,  and  so  to  all  divine  law.  Nothing  but 
sufficient  knowledge  can  be  wanting  to  effect  a  perfect 
coincidence  of  all  virtuous  and  of  all  right  action.  An 
action  will  not  be  right  because  it  is  virtuous,  nor  virtuous 
because  it  is  right.  For  the  one  we  look  backwards  to  its 
source ;  for  the  other,  forwards  to  its  relations  and  conse- 
quences ;  but  virtue  cannot  be  virtue  except  as  there  is  in 
it  a  disposition  to  do  right. 

If,  then,  any  contend  for  an  absolute  and  ultimate  right 
that  is  identical  with  goodness,  we  are  content;  but  if  not, 
it  will  devolve  on  them  to  show  what  they  mean  by  it  that 
is  different  from  the  above  statement. 

Having  thus  treated  of  right  in  its  relation  to  virtue,  we 
next  inquire  after  the  relation  to  it  of  utility  and  expedi- 
ency. This  has  been  a  difficult  point  in  morals ;  but  those 
who  accept  the  above  statements  will  readily  see  what  that 
relation  must  be.  Whatever  is  useful  or  expedient  must 
be  so  with  reference  to  some  end.  Hence,  utility  and 
expediency  always  imply  an  end  previously  chosen.  Here 
nothing  will  be  chosen  for  its  own  sake,  and  all  questions 
must  respect  the  choice,  not  of  ends,  but  of  conditions  and 
moans.     We  have  thus  two  classes  of  questions  closely 


MEANS   AND   ENDS.  236 

connected,  but  of  an  entirely  different  order.  An  ultimate 
end,  so  far  as  it  is  regarded  as  ultimate,  —  and  a  supreme 
end  must  be  wholly  so,  —  can  have  neither  utility  nor 
expediency.  It  is  chosen  for  its  own  sake.  In  the  choice 
of  such  an  end  character  alone  is  involved.  In  that  of 
means  and  conditions,  character  is  always  implied ;  but  it 
is  capacity  that  is  chiefly  involved. 

And  here  it  is  to  be  observed  that  conditions  and  means 
can  be  rationally  chosen  only^on  the  ground  that  they  are 
adapted  to  the  attainment  of  the  end ;  and  that,  having 
chosen  an  end,  it  would  be  an  inconsistency  and  folly 
not  to  choose  those  conditions  and  means  that  would  be 
the  best  adapted  to  atta^  it.  What  else  can  a  rational 
man  do? 

It  is  to  be  observed,  again,  that  if  the  end  chosen  be  tho 
true  supreme  end  of  man,  then  any  means  in  themselves 
adapted  to  attain  that  end  will  be  right.  This  is  not  the 
doctrine  that  the  end  sanctifies  the  means,  but  implies  the 
fact  that  this  is  such  an  end  as  can  be  obtained  only  by 
sanctified  means.  An  inadequate  and  false  end,  chosen 
selfishly,  may  be  attained  by  vicious  means.  If  money  be 
the  supreme  end,  it  may  be  attained  by  fraud.  Power 
may  be  attained  by  violence  and  injustice.  When  a  man 
has  chosen  a  supreme  end,  if  he  be  consistent,  he  will  use 
whatever  means  may  be  necessary  to  attain  it.  The  very 
fact  that  the  end  is  supreme  to  him  will  render  it  impos« 
Bible  that  anything  should  come  between  him  and  it. 
But  no  man  can  seek  to  promote  blessedness  by  sin^ —  by 
any  interference  with  the  rights  of  others.  It  would  bo 
a  contradiction. 

In  treating  of  the  intellect,  it  was  noticed  how  the 
wrong  choice  of  a  supreme  end  will  pervert  that.  We 
uo^k  sec  bow  it  is  that  it  will  pervert  the  heart  j  and  how 


236  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

it  is  that  no  man  can  consistently  stop  at  any  wickedness 
necessary  to  the  attainment  of  such  an  end.  If  the  love 
of  power  be  absolutely  supreme,  then  the  esteem  of  men 
and  the  favor  of  God  must  be  relatively  of  less  account, 
and  must  be  disregarded.  And  as  we  saw  how  the  choice 
of  the  true  end  would  lead  to  candor  and  a  coming  to  the 
light,  so  we  may  now  see  how  it  involves  unselfishness  in 
the  choice  of  means.  We  here  find  deep  and  pervading 
laws  of  our  constitution. 

We  may  now  see  what  the  true  doctrine  of  expediency 
and  utility  is,  and  how  largely  the  consideration  of  these 
must  enter  into  human  life.  In  all  secondary  choices  and 
executive  volition  they  must  govern  every  rational  man. 
Does  a  man  pursue  his  own  ends  by  what  he  deems  to  be 
the  best  means  ?  If  not,  he  is  blameworthy.  But  if  he 
does,  it  ill  becomes  him  to  rail  at  expediency. 

But  may  not  expediency  be  opposed  to  right?  A  false 
expediency  may ;  and  hence  the  prejudice.  The  objec- 
tions to  expediency  seem  to  have  arisen,  first,  from  the 
general  choice  of  wrong  ends,  and  measuring  expediency 
by  them.  Two  men  have  a  quarrel.  The  object  of  each 
is  to  humble  the  other.  One  can  do  it  by  fraud.  He  says 
this  would  be  expedient,  but  not  right.  Expedient  for 
what?  Not  for  the  promotion  of  blessedness  on  the 
whole..  And,  second,  objections  have  arisen  because,  even 
when  the  true  end  has  been  chosen,  men  have  sometimes 
failed  to  see  that  they  might  not  and  never  could  promote 
it  by  interfering  with  the  rights  of  others,  —  that  means, 
to  be  means  at  all,  must  here  partake  of  the  character  of 
the  end. 

This  true  doctrine  of  expediency  some  have  failed  to 
see  J  and  in  seeking,  in  opposition  to  that,  for  an  abstract 
right,  have  fallen  into  a  fanaticism  not  the  less  mischievous 


PRUDENCE  AND  VIRTUE.  2S7 

for  its  high  pretensions,  and  the  fair  garb  in  which  It  has 
clothed  itself. 

We  now  pass  to  another  distinction  which  belongs  here, 
— •  that  between  prudence  and  virtue.  Prudence  does  not 
ftirnish  positive  motives.  It  presupposes  the  choice  and 
pursuit  of  an  end,  and  its  office  is  to  guard  against  danger 
under  the  operation  of  fixed  laws.  "The  prudent  man 
foreseeth  the  evil,  and  hideth  himself."  Prudence  has  sole 
reference  to  our  interest  as  under  fixed  laws,  and  not  as 
under  the  rule  of  a  pei*sonal  being.  In  its  perfection  it  is 
an  acquired  sagacity  in  regard  to  the  laws,  whether  of 
matter  or  of  mind,  and  a  habit  of  shaping  the  conduct  in 
accordance  with  them  ;  and  as  such,  it  becomes  to  man  in 
his  sphere  what  instinct  is  to  the  animals  in  theirs. 

As  prudence  regards  only  consequences  from  fixed  laws, 
the  moment  we  come  to  faith,  and  to  sufiering  and  martyr- 
dom for  adherence  to  principle  at  all  hazards,  its  sphere  is 
transcended.  A  man  may  purposely  so  act  in  opposition 
to  fixed  laws  as  to  jeopardize  or  destroy  his  whole  interest 
under  those  laws ;  and  this  he  may  do  rationally,  but  in  no 
proper  sense  of  the  word  can  he  be  said  to  do  it  prudently. 
The  hero  is  not  prudent.  The  martyr  is  not  prudent.  He 
is  brought  into  a  position  where  the  rules  of  prudence  are 
out  of  place,  and  where  it  becomes  necessary  to  vindicate 
the  supremacy  of  the  spiritual  nature  and  the  majesty  of 
virtue  by  an  unconditional  trust  in  goodness  and  in  God. 

Prudence  may  then  be  regarded  as  the  appointed  guar- 
dian of  the  interests  of  man  in  the  present  life,  and  under 
those  fixed  laws  that  are  made  known  by  experience.  As 
such,  it  is,  as  Butler  says,  "  of  the  nature  of  virtue."  To 
study  those  laws,  to  heed  them  when  we  may,  and  to 
scduYQ  the  good  there  is  under  them,  is  our  wisdom  and 
duty.    Wantonly  or  heedlessly  to  disregard  them  is  wrong; 


^S8  LECTtJRES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

but  the  highest  life  of  man  is  not  in  them,  or  from  taem, 
or  under  them ;  and  when  the  demands  of  that  life  require 
us  to  give  up  every  interest  under  those  laws,  or  even  to 
lay  ourselves  down  in  their  track  to  be  crushed  by  them, 
it  is  to  be  done. 

Right,  expediency,  prudence,  are  all  found  by  tracing 
actions  outwards,  and  have  their  basis  in  a  nature  of 
things,  and  in  which  some  have  placed  the  foundation  of 
morals.  Of  this  nature  of  things,  there  are  some  who  so 
think  as  if  it  were  something  back  of  the  will  of  God,  and 
controlled  it.  So  Dr.  Dwight.  He  says,  "  It  is,  I  appre- 
hend, evident  that  the  foundation  of  virtue  is  not  in  the 
will  of  God,  but  in  the  nature  of  things."  And  to  this 
nature  of  things  he  supposed  the  will  of  God  to  be  con- 
formed. He  says  further,  confounding,  as  it  would  seem, 
the  nature  of  things  with  their  tendency,  that  "  virtue  is 
termed  good  only  as  being  the  cause  of  happiness,"  so 
making  the  foundation  of  obligation  to  be  in  the  tendency 
of  things,  and  the  will  of  God  to  be  governed  by  that,  — 
as  if  there  could  be  either  a  nature  or  a  tendency  of  things 
that  did  not  have  its  origin  in  the  will  of  God. 

Others,  again,  supposing  the  nature  of  things,  and  so 
their  tendencies  to  be  originated  by  God,  go  back  to  the 
nature  of  God  himself  for  the  origin  of  these  distinctions 
and  the  foundation  of  moral  obligation.  Here  they  seem 
to  find  the  limit  of  all  analysis,  and  of  all  thought,  since 
nothing  can  be  more  ultimate  than  the  nature  of  God. 
"Instead  of  any  abstract  fitnesses  being  the  standard  of 
the  divine  nature,  the  divine  nature  must  itself,"  it  is  said, 
"be  the  origin  and  standard  of  all  fitnesses." 

On  a  subject  like  this  it  becomes  us  to  speak  cautiously 
and  reverently.  It  may  be  doubted,  howevei-,  whether 
this  mode  of  speaking  either  originates  in,  or  conveys  a 


PtTRE  PERSONALITY  OP  OOD.  239 

true  conception  of  the  nature  of  God.  It  supposes  a 
nature  in  him  that  lies  back  of  reason  and  of  will,  and 
from  which  impulsions  come  by  which  his  will  is  necessa- 
rily detei-mined.  Because  we  have  a  nature  that  is  dis- 
tinct from  our  personality,  and  underlies  it,  it  is  imagined 
that  God  has.  It  may  be,  however,  that  the  nature 
of  God  is  nothing  distinct  from  his  personality,  and  that 
so  he  is  wholly  supernatural.  It  may  be  that  the  terms 
nature  and  natural,  used  as  they  commonly  are  to  indi- 
cate something  fixed,  stated,  unifonn,  and  not  made  so  by 
will,  are  without  meaning  when  applied  to  God.  So  for 
as  we  can  aj)ply  the  term  to  God,  it  may  be  that  it  is  his 
nature  to  be  simply  a  Person  determining  his  own  will 
in  the  light  of  an  all-comprehending  reason,  and  in  view, 
not  of  any  intrinsic  differences  in  a  nature  of  things,  but 
of  the  different  character  and  results  of  different  possible 
forms  of  his  own  activity.  It  may  be  that  what  we  must 
reach  in  our  ultimate  analysis  is  a  free  personality,  —  a 
Pei*son,  with  no  nature,  or  fate,  or  fitnesses  of  things  back 
of  him,  or  above  him ;  who  is  himself,  by  his  own  free 
choice,  the  originator  of  everything  that  may  properly  be 
called  nature,  and  of  all  fitnesses  of  things.  That  this  is 
not  so,  who  shall  say  ?  Who  shall  say  that  this  is  not  our 
only  way  to  avoid  that  conception  of  God,  so  very  general, 
that  is  equivalent  to  fate  ? 

The  confusion  at  this  point  may  be  largely  due  to  the 
inadequacy  of  language  for  such  a  subject.  Two  extremes 
were  to  be  avoided :  one,  the  founding  of  obligation  on 
mere  will ;  the  other,  the  virtual  exclusion  of  will. 

The  difficulty  arises  from  the  eternity,  and  so  the  neces- 
sity, of  the  divine  existence.  But  if  it  be  said  that  God  is 
a  necessary  being,  it  is  also  to  be  said  that  he  is  necessarily 
rational  and  free,  and  that  what  he  is  now  be  has  always 


240  LECTURES  6N  moral  SCIENCE. 

been.  Go  back  as  we  may,  we  find  simply  a  personal  God, 
rational  and  free.  As  such,  he  is  a  law  unto  himself,  sub- 
ject to  no  necessity,  except  the  necessity  there  is  that 
reason  should  act  rationally.  Obligation  is  affirmed  in 
him,  as  in  us,  we  being  made  in  his  image,  only  with  no 
danger  of  mistake,  and  with  no  possibility  that  he  should 
be  responsible  to  any  one.  This  gives  us,  as  the  origin  of 
all  things  that  had  an  origin,  character  and  will;  and 
instead  of  a  blind  fate  it  gives  us  that  moral  certainty 
which  accompanies  the  highest  freedom.  Something  must 
be  given.  What  we  need  is  simply  a  person ;  and  it  is  a 
mere  abuse  of  language  to  convert  that  constitution  of  the 
Divine  Being,  by  which  he  is  a  person,  and  capable  of  a 
rational  freedom,  into  a  nature  the  very  idea  of  which 
excludes  freedom. 

But  if  this  be  so,  then,  as  in  a  \r  search  backwards  for 
the  origin  of  being,  the  ultimate  tact  is  the  being  of  God ; 
so,  in  our  search  backwards  for  the  origin  of  moral  dis- 
tinctions, we  shall  find,  not  any  nature  of  things,  not  any 
nature  of  God,  not  any  necessary  and  eternal  principles, 
but  simply  the  character  of  God.  It  would  be  a  grand 
consummation  thus  to  find,  standing  at  the  termination  of 
all  our  investigations  physical  and  moral,  as  that  beyond 
which  nothing  could  be  more  ultimate,  simply  the  being  of 
God,  and  the  character  of  God. 

If  this  be  so,  then  virtue  or  goodness,  and  rectitude, 
will,  in  God,  be  the  same  thing  seen  in  different  aspects. 
His  goodness  will  be  seen  in  his  choice  of  ends,  and  his 
rectitude  in  the  mode  of  attaining  them ;  and  there  can 
be  for  man,  and  indeed  for  any  creature  however  exalted, 
nothing  higher,  or  better,  or  more  ultimate  than  conformity 
to  the  character  of  God.  It  may  be  that,  as  all  the  natural 
teachings  of  the  works  of  God  are  but  indications   and 


THE  WILL  OP  GOD  A  STANDARD.  241 

expressions  of  his  natural  attributes,  so  all  their  moral 
teachings,  together  with  those  of  revelation,  are  but  the 
expressions  of  his  moral  character ;  and  that  the  end  of  all 
teaching,  and  of  all  influences,  will  be  the  formation  by 
creatures  made  in  his  image  of  a  character  similar  to  his. 

If  we  accept  what  lias  now  been  said,  it  will  follow, 
as  moral  distinctions  have  their  origin  in  God  as  a  person, 
as  his  character  is  the  standard  of  goodness,  and  his  will 
is  the  expression  of  his  character,  that  his  will,  however 
made  known,  must  be  the  ultimate  rule  of  moral  action ; 
it  must  be  that  to  which  the  conscience  will  respond,  not 
simply  as  will,  but  as  the  will  of  God.  It  was  made  to 
respond  to  his  will  because  that  is  the  expression  of  his 
character;  and  his  character,  as  combining  benevolence  and 
rectitude,  is  the  perfection  and  standard  of  moral  excel- 
lence. 

As  we,  then,  find  in  the  being  of  God  the  origin  of  all 
other  being,  so  that  without  him  there  could  be  no  other ; 
so  do  we  find  in  the  character  of  God,  and  in  his  will  as 
expressing  that  character,  all  that  is  ultimate  in  moral  dis- 
tinctions, and  without  that  will  and  character  those  dis- 
tinctions could  not  be.  Thus  do  all  our  speculations  lead 
us  to  God,  not  merely  as  the  fountain  of  being,  but  of 
excellence,  and  as  the  Head  and  Governor  of  the  moral 
universe. 

"We  have  now  examined  the  human  constitution  as  re- 
lated to  ends  rationally  apprehended  and  pursued.  In  so 
doing  we  have  necessarily  assumed  that  that  constitution 
is,  for  our  purposes,  in  a  normal  state.  A  true  physiology 
is  not  morbid  anatomy.  We  have  assumed  that  from  a 
study  of  the  structure  of  man,  physical  and  mental,  some 
knowledge  may  be  gained  not  only  of  his  separate  organs 
21 


242  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

and  faculties,  but  also  of  man  himself  as  a  system,  and  of 
his  end.  If  he  cannot  know  his  own  end  there  can  be 
no  philosophy  of  man,  no  comprehension,  no  satisfactory 
knowledge. 

That  man  could,  in  his  present  state,  know  his  end  with- 
out revelation,  does  not  appear.  There  is  no  philosophy 
in  a  ruin ;  and  facts  are  against  it.  Where  the  Bible  has 
not  been  it  does  not  appear  that  man  has  either  attained 
or  retained  a  knowledge  of  his  true  end. 

But  if  it  were  otherwise,  so  that  the  best  minds  of  the 
race  could  reach  such  knowledge,  or  even  if  there  were  no 
moral  ruin,  yet  for  a  race  coming  up  to  moral  agency  from 
the  blankness  of  infancy,  and  through  the  long  twilight 
of  youth,  it  would  seem  that  such  knowledge  could  never 
be  sufficient  as  a  practical  guide.  Something  more  imme- 
diate and  direct  would  be  needed ;  and  that  we  find  in 
those  two  other  principles.  Instinct  and  Faith,  in  accord- 
ance with  which  it  was  said  in  the  second  lecture  that 
ends  might  be  pursued. 

Having,  then,  found  the  harmony  there  is  between  the 
constitution  of  man  and  nature  on  the  one  hand,  and  that 
same  constitution  and  revelation  on  the  other;  having 
shown  the  relation  between  virtue  and  moral  good ;  be- 
tween individual  and  general  good ;  between  moral  and 
natural  good  ;  between  right,  utility,  prudence,  and  virtue, 
it  remains  to  find  the  harmony  there  may  be  between  the 
pursuit  of  ends  through  these  principles  of  Instinct  and 
Faith,  and  by  the  method  already  considered. 

In  comprehending  ends  man  is  wholly  a  philosopher ;  in 
pursuing  them  he  is  a  practical  philosopher.  His  knowl- 
edge becomes  power  in  the  highest  form,  —  the  power  of 
attaining  his  supreme  end.    But  as  an  end  may  be  attained 


INSTINCT.  243 

by  instinct  and  by  faith,  we  need  to  see  the  relation  of  a 
rational  philosophy  to  the  attainment  of  an  end  by  these. 

If  we  mean  by  instinct  that  principle  which  directs 
animals  without  any  comprehension  or  election  of  theirs, 
which  seems,  indeed,  to  be  but  a  higher  form  of  the  same 
principle  that  causes  the  plumule  in  a  plant  to  tend  up- 
wards and  the  radicle  to  tend  downwards,  with  no  rela- 
tion to  anything  higher,  then  it  does  not  belong  to  our 
subject.  But  if  we  mean  by  instinct  that  tendency  of  a 
rational  nature  towards  its  supreme  end  which  must,  as  it 
seems  to  us,  belong  to  it  if  rightly  constituted,  without 
something  of  which  we  could  not  conceive  of  an  end,  and 
which  we  may  elect  to  accept  or  reject  as  our  guide,  then 
it  does  come  within  our  range.  Then  does  it  become  us  to 
examine  both  it  as  a  part  of  our  frame-work,  and  the  end 
it  proposes,  and  to  accept  or  reject  both  the  end  and  the 
guide.  If  we  accept  both,  and  give  ourselves  up  to  the 
guidance  of  the  instinct,  or  the  impulse,  or  the  nature,  or 
whatever  we  may  please  to  call  it,  then  are  we,  in  an  im- 
portant sense,  governed  both  by  instinct  and  by  reason ; 
and  it  is  obvious  that  there  will  be  a  hannony  of  the  two. 
It  is  the  instinct  that  guides  us,  but  we  are  not  blind  in 
following  it.  We  trust  ourselves  to  it  willingly,  as  the 
muleteer  who  traverses  mountain-passes  knows  that  hi? 
wisdom  lies  in  letting  the  mule  plant  his  feet  where  h.' 
pleases.  It  would,  perhaps,  be  possible  for  a  person  to  e:U 
by  philcsophy.  Taking  it  for  his  end,  an  excellent  end,  to 
keep  his  body  of  the  same  weight,  he  might  ascertain  by 
experiment  that  there  was  precisely  so  much  waste  of  the 
\stem  in  a  given  time,  and  of  just  such  proximate  ele- 
ments, and  he  might  gather  and  compound  the  materials 
chemically,  and  supply  them  by  weight  with  no  regard  to 
appetite,  as  he  would  put  so  much  meal  into  a  bag  j  but  if 


244  LECTURES   ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

he  were  to  do  that  repeatedly  and  find  the  result  no  better 
than  when  he  left  the  whole  business  to  appetite,  and  per- 
haps not  as  good,  it  would  be  rational  in  him  to  trust  that. 
In  everything  relating  to  the  body,  to  the  preservation  of 
health,  and  to  its  restoration,  there  is  a  wisdom  of  nature 
which  the  wisest  regard  most,  and  to  which  men  con- 
stantly return  after  long  vagaries  of  theory,  and  of  what 
they  call  rational  methods.  Now  it  may  be  that  what  we 
call  instinct  here  has  not  been  sufficiently  investigated. 
We  hear  men  speak  of  the  higher  instincts,  and  of  rational 
instincts.  Are  these,  then,  for  the  higher  nature  what  the 
lower  instincts  are  for  the  lower  ?  As  many  view  it,  what 
is  conscience  but  a  rational  instinct,  a  guide  without  com- 
prehension, but  rational  because  it  reveals  itself  as  the 
voice  of  God,  which  all  instinct  is  without  thus  reveal- 
ing itself?  But  if  these  instincts  are  the  product  of  the 
higher  nature,  how  do  they  differ  from  those  intuitions 
which  have  been  called  the  product  of  reason,  and  so  of 
the  highest  form  of  intelligence  ?  However  we  may  an- 
swer these  questions,  there  can  be  no  doubt  respecting  the 
main  point  of  our  inquiry.  Whatever  there  may  be  of 
instinct  higher  or  lower  to  guide  us  in  the  pursuit  of  a 
supreme  end,  must  be  perfectly  coincident  with  the  im- 
pulse to  be  derived  from  a  rational  comprehension  of  that 
end,  and  in  accepting  such  guidance  we  may  be  wholly 
rational. 

Having  thus  seen  that  instinctive  morality,  if  such  there 
may  be,  would  be  in  harmony  with  a  rational  morality,  we 
turn  to  the  third  mode  in  which  an  end  mny  be  ob- 
tained, that  is,  by  faith,  and  inquire  for  the  relation  of 
that  to  a  rational  morality.  Can  a  man  be  rationally  gov- 
erned by  faith  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  by  instinct  ? 

Of  the  term  faith  there  are  different  shades  of  meaning, 


FAITH  DISTINGUISHED  FROM  KNOWLEDGE.  245 

but  its  general  import  is  so  well  fixed  that  they  will  give 
us  no  trouble.  It  is  distinguished  from  knowledge,  certain 
or  uncertain.  And,  first,  from  certain  knowledge.  This 
must  come  directly  from  the  action  of  some  of  the  senses 
or  faculties.  If  we  have  not  faculties  that  find  their  evi- 
dence in  their  own  activity,  we  can  be  sure  of  nothing,  not 
even  of  the  being  of  a  God.  Our  intuitions,  those  first 
truths  of  reason  which  are  imjDlied  in  all  our  other  know- 
ing, the  legitimate  results  of  the  operation  of  any  of  the 
faculties,  —  tested  as  legitimate,  the  constitution  being 
^iven,  by  their  uniformity  and  necessity,  —  must  be  re- 
ceived as  certainly  known.  When  tlirough  these  faculties 
we  have  once  reached  the  being  of  a  God,  faith  in  him 
would  assure  us  that  faculties  given  by  him  could  not  be 
mendacious;  still,  in  the  last  analysis,  the  evidence  of  their 
trustworthiness  must  be  given  in  their  own  activity. 

Faith  is  also  distinguished  from  those  beliefs  w^hich  we 
gain  from  our  own  processes  of  reasoning.  It  is  not  by 
faith  that  we  believe  in  the  result  of  a  mathematical 
demonstration,  or,  if  we  had  never  heard  of  the  case,  yet 
should  understand  the  conditions,  that  we  should  believe 
the  mercury  in  a  barometer  would  sink  if  carried  to  the 
top  of  a  high  mountain.  It  is  not  by  faith  that  we  believe 
anything  that  we  are  required  to  believe  by  our  constitu- 
tion or  by  the  laws  of  evidence,  except  as  confidence  in 
pei*sonal  character  enters  into  those  laws. 

Faith  is  also  to  be  distinguished  from  uncertain  knowl- 
edge. 

It  is  mischievous,  aa  opposing  faith  to  reason,  and  as 
bringing  religion  into  contempt,  to  make  faith  something 
mystical  and  obscure,  and  to  which  a  man  may  resort 
when  he  is  pushed  in  argument.  Says  Hamilton,  "  Faith 
—  belief — is  the  organ  by  which  we  apprehend  what  is 

21* 


246  LEOTUEES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

beyond  our  knowledge."  "In  this,"  he  adds,  "all  divhics 
and  philosophers  worthy  of  the  name  are  found  to  coin- 
cide." Faith  an  organ  !  Belief  an  organ  !  As  if,  making 
them,  as  is  here  done,  synonymous,  belief  were  anything 
but  an  opinion  not  substantiated  beyond  all  doubt.  He 
might  as  well  make  opinion  an  organ  instead  of  a  product. 
If  all  divines  and  philosophers  worthy  of  the  name  have 
believed  this  "  the  more's  the  pity." 

It  is  also  said  that  faith  is  that  principle  of  our  nature 
by  which  we  apprehend  the  invisible.  But  what  is  an  ap- 
prehension of  the  invisible  but  a  form  of  knowledge  or 
belief  based  on  evidence  ?  If  there  are  principles  of  our 
nature  through  which  we  believe  in  the  invisible,  they 
must  be  common  to  all  men ;  but  "  all  men  have  not  faith." 
Faith  does,  indeed,  often  imply  a  belief,  or,  if  you  please, 
an  apprehension  of  the  invisible,  but  that  is  not  its  dis- 
tinctive element.  Faith  has  always  a  personal  element. 
It  is  confidence  in  a  person  with  reference  to  anything  for 
which  he  offers  himself  to  us.  If  we  believe  what  a  man 
says  solely  because  he  says  it,  that  is  faith.  If  we  believe 
it  in  the  face  of  strong  improbabilities  from  other  sources, 
the  faith  is  more,  signal.  It  is  more  signal  still,  if,  on  the 
mere  ground  of  character,  and  when  that  stands  in  conflict 
with  other  sources  of  belief,  we  commit  to  another  great 
interests.  When  Alexander  the  Great  drank  the  cup  pre- 
sented to  him  by  his  physician,  though  he  had.  been  warned 
by  a  note  that  the  physician  intended  to  poison  him,  he 
did  it  by  faith.  A  traveller  who  should  himself  know  the 
way  through  a  forest  would  walk  securely  and  independ- 
ently on  the  ground  of  his  knowledge ;  but  One  who 
should  know  nothing  of  the  way,  and  should  commit 
himself  wholly  to  a  guide,  would  walk  by  faith  j  and  if 


FAITH  A  NATURAL  PRINCIPLE.  247 

his  faith  were  perfect,  he  would  step  just  as  firmly  and 
securely  as  the  other. 

Now,  from  the  condition  and  circumstances  of  man  it  is 
plain  that  faith  was  intended  by  God  to  be  a  great  natural 
principle  and  guide  of  life.  In  the  absence  of  instruction 
and  comprehension,  it  is  to  creatures  with  reason  what 
instinct  is  to  those  without  it,  and  something  more.  It 
was  intended  to  be  to  them  not  merely  a  guide,  but  a 
formative,  an  assimilative,  and  an .  elevating  principle.  It 
is  to  mere  belief  what  the  moral  reason  is  to  reason.  It 
is  belief  and  something  more,  and  is  therefore  higher.  By 
the  clement  of  belief  that  is  in  it,  it  guides  its  subject ; 
and  by  that  which  is  specifically  the  confidence,  it  assim- 
ilates and  elevates  him.  It  is  the  one  great  link,  the  mag-, 
netic  link,  between  parent  and  child,  by  which  the  parent 
is  enabled  to  raise  the  child  to  his  own  level.  Take  this 
wholly  away,  and  not  only  would  the  improvement  of 
the  race  be  checked,  but  imprevability  could  scarcely  be 
affirmed  of  it. 

That  it  is  a  natural  principle,  is  obvious,  not  only  from 
its  being  thus  necessary,  but  because  life  is  full  of  condi- 
tions and  relations  in  which  men  act  from  it  naturally, 
necessarily,  and  with  no  feeling  of  degradation.  It  is 
true  universally  of  children,  in  their  relation  to  their 
parents,  and  of  men  generally  in  their  relations  to  each 
other  as  proficients  in  specific  branches  of  knowledge,  and 
that  without  regard  to  general  superiority.  An  admiral 
may  rationally  entrust  his  ship  to  a  common  pilot,  and  a 
Newton  entrusts  his  health  and  life  to  his  physician. 

But  what  is  thus  natural  and  necessary  in  the  com- 
mon relations  of  life,  we  might  expect,  if  God  be  in- 
^oed  a  father,  would  be  carried  up  into  our  relations  with 


248  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

him,  only  with  such  modifications  as  would  be  demanded 
by  his  character  and  those  relations.  Here,  obviously, 
reason  would  demand  that  the  faith  should  be  unwavering 
and  absolute,  stopping  at  nothing  except  that  which  would 
make  God  deny  himself.  This  the  very  conception  of 
God  as  possessed  of  infinite  excellence  would  require. 
From  what  was  said  formerly  of  the  identity  of  a  moral 
and  of  the  divine  law,  it  will  follow  that  man  must  be  able 
to  judge  to  some  extent  of  anything  claiming  to  be  a  divine 
revelation  by  its  intrinsic  qualities;  and  it  may  be  con- 
ceded to  the  advocates  of  reason  that  if  anything  can  be 
shown  to  be  opposed  to  the  final  or  highest  end  of  man,  it 
cannot  be  from  God.  He  cannot  require  essential  wicked- 
ness. So  much  seems  to  be  conceded  by  the  apostle  in 
the  case  of  Abraham ;  for  he  says  that  Abraham  acted  on 
the  supposition  that  God  could  reconcile  two  revelations 
which  seemed  to  him  contradictory.  "  He  counted,"  says 
the  apostle,  "  that  God  was  able  to  raise  him  up  even  from 
the  dead."  It  is  not  that,  the  ultimate  end  being  known, 
the  insight  of  reason  in  regard  to  that  as  good  can  be 
shaken,  for  then  would  God  contradict  himself,  but  that, 
in  respect  to  any  prescribed  means,  or  to  anything  short 
of  the  relinquishment  of  that,  faith  in  God  should  be 
unlimited.  At  this  point  it  must  stop,  because  the  denial 
of  essential  goodness  and  the  denial  of  God  would  be  the 
same  thing.  If  God  could  command  malignity  and  the 
hatred  of  goodness  as  such,  he  would  not  be  God. 

If,  then,  within  this  limit,  it  can  be  shown  that  God  has 
made  any  communication  to  man  respecting  his  end,  —  if 
he  has  either  told  him  what  that  end  is,  or  directed  him 
how  to  attain  it, —  it  will  be  wholly  reasonable  for  him  to 
receive  implicitly  what  is  thus  communicated,  and  to  rest 
his  whole  being  upon  it.    Doing  thus  he  is  acting  upon  a 


CHRISTIANITY   AND   FAITH.  249 

natural  and  necessary,  as  well  as  an  ennobling  principle, 
and  his  tread  may  be  as  firm,  and  his  assurance  in  regard 
to  ultimate  results  as  absolute,  as  if  he  comprehended  the 
whole  system  of  the  universe  from  beginning  to  end  and 
from  centre  to  circumference.  It  would  not  indeed  be 
philosophy  by  which  he  would  be  guided ;  but  it  would 
be  reason  rejecting  as  inadequate  such  philosophy  as  itself 
might  be  able  to  fonii,  and  trusting,  instead,  to  the  guid- 
ance of  Him  who  is  the  author  and  source  of  all  philoso- 
phy. It  would  be  the  mariner  trusting  his  compass;  it 
would  be  the  child  taking  exercise  or  medicine  by  the 
direction  of  a  father,  without  knowing  the  laws  of  his  sys- 
tem. It  would,  in  short,  be  man  understandingly  and 
rationally  taking  that  place  as  a  child  in  which  is  his  dig- 
nity and  his  happiness.  With  sufficient  ground  of  confi- 
dence in  his  father,  a  child  holding  his  hand  —  which  is 
faith  —  might  rationally  close  his  eyes  and  step  where  his 
father  should  direct ;  or,  with  his  eyes  open,  he  might  step 
in  opposition  to  what  would  be  his  individual  judgment; 
and  in  these  two  cases,  with  the  limit  above  given,  we  have 
the  whole  relation  of  reason  and  faith. 

As  connected  with  religion,  faith  has  been  the  subject  of 
much  discussion,  but  as  a  great  natural  principle  of  action 
it  is  an  illustration  of  the  principle  noticed  in  tlie  firet  lec- 
ture, that  what  is  the  most  intimate  to  us,  and  from  the 
beginning  wholly  a  matter  of  course,  is  the  lasit  to  attract 
attention.  When  the  tenn  was  firat  used  in  Christianity, 
nothing  could  have  been  more  strange.  It  was  unknown  in 
])hilosophy,  and  it  is  a  strong  evidence  for  Christianity  that 
it  should  have  thus  seized  upon  a  principle  which  must  act 
from  the  first  moment  of  conscious  existence,  which  is  in 
society  what  gravitation  is  among  the  stars,  and  without 
changing  its  nature,  but  only  modifying  it  according  to  the 


2^0  LECTURES  ON  MORAL   SCIENCE. 

relations  involved,  should  have  transferred  it  from  its  ali- 
pervading  though  unrecognized  earthly  uses  to  the  higher 
uses  of  religion. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  would  appear  that  in  pursu- 
ing an  end  from  instinct,  by  faith,  or  with  a  full  compre- 
hension of  both  means  and  ends,  we  may  be  acting  ration- 
ally, while  it  is  only  in  the  last  case  that  we  should  be 
acting  philosophically,  because  a  system  of  philosophical 
action  can  be  based  only  on  a  conception  of  ends  and  of 
means.  But  these  three  systems  or  grounds  of  action, 
the  instinctive,  the  religious,  and  the  philosophical,  can 
have  the  common  characteristic  of  being  rational  only  on 
the  condition  that  they  conspire  to  a  common  end.  That 
most  clearly  they  must  do.  A  system  not  based  on  the 
true  end  would  be  erroneous  and  not  philoso})hical ;  an 
instinct  or  tendency  in  a  being  rightly  constituted  must 
prompt  to  the  true  end ;  and  faith  in  God  could  lead  only 
to  that. 

Thus  does  this  philosophy  of  ends,  in  connection  with 
the  law  of  limitation,  make  provision  for  the  harmonious 
operation  of  every  active  power  in  man.  In  whatever 
proportions  instinct  and  faith  and  philosophy  may  be 
combined,  there  is  yet  full  provision  for  the  high  preroga- 
tives of  man  is  personal  and  rational,  and  every  power 
may  conspire  to  lift  him  up  and  bear  him  on  to  his  true 
end. 

Having  thus  brought  moral  philosophy  to  a  perceived 
harmony  with  those  original  impulses  of  the  constitution 
which  are  of  the  nature  of  instinct,  and  with  faith,  which 
is  distinctively  and  naturally  the  religious  principle,  it  will 
need  but  a  few  words  to  show  its  harmony  with  religion 
itself. 

It  will,  first,  be  a  test  of  any  system  that  may  claim  to 


MORAL  SCIENCE  AND   CHRISTIANITY.  2M 

ome  from  God,  whether  it  be  one  of  revealed  law,  or  of 
a  mode  of  restoration  when  law  has  been  violated ;  and, 
second,  of  any  such  system  that  should  really  come  irom 
God  it  would  be  the  adjuvant. 

Moral  philosophy  analyzes  the  powers  of  man,  and  thus 
discovers  the  true  end  of  each,  and  so  of  man  himself.  If, 
then,  there  be  a  revealed  law,  or  what  claims  to  be  such, 
which  would  require  the  pursuit  of  the  same  end,  moral 
philosophy  must  accept  that  law.  It  cannot  do  otherwise. 
Then  the  law  is  right  and  binding,  whether  revealed  or 
not.  If  any  law  claiming  to  be  from  God  could  be  shown 
to  be  thus  wholly  in  Harmony  with  the  moral  constitution 
of  man,  it  would  be  conclusive  evidence  that  it  was  from 
God.  It  would  be  a  revelation  in  words  of  the  same  will 
that  had  been  previously  revealed  in  ends.  And  this  is 
precisely  what  we  claim  for  the  Bible  as  a  revelation  of 
law.  What  we  say  is,  that  no  fair  and  correct  analysis  of 
our  faculties  can  be  made  that  will  not  necessitate  for 
them  the  same  end  and  law  that  are  revealed  in  the  Bible. 

So  of  anything  that  should  claim  to  be  revealed  as  a 
method  of  restoration.  If  it  could  be  shown  to  be  not 
only  in  harmony  with  the  law  as  revealed  in  the  end,  but 
also  to  have  in  it  an  efficacy  so  to  restore  the  man  that  ho 
shall  attain  that  end,  it  yrould  be  conclusive  evidence  that 
that  too  was  from  God.  Here  the  problem  would  be 
double,  and  the  difficulty  increased.  But  as  it  is  the  object 
or  end  of  the  foot  that  we  may  walk,  and  as  a  rational 
physiology  would  accept  whatever  would  restore  a  broken 
bone  so  that  it  should  be  as  good  as  if  it  had  not  been 
broken,  so,  if  the  moral  powers  have  been  injured,  a 
rational  philosophy  would  accept  and  welcome  any  reme- 
dial system  which  it  could  be  shown  would  enable  them  to 


252  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

attain  their  original  end.  Here  is  the  test  of  any  sj  stem 
claiming  to  be  remedial,  —  harmony  with  law  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  power  of  restoration  on  the  other,  —  and, 
tried  by  this  test,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
Christianity  must  be  received. 


LECTURE   XI. 

BIGHTS.  —  THKIR  ORIGIN  AND  KINDS.  —  ALIENABLE.  —  INALIENABLE.  — 
SLAVERY.  —  RIGHTS  OF  PERSONS  AND  OF  THINGS.  —  GIVING  AND  RE- 
CEIVING.—RIGHTS  OF  GOVERNMENT.  — LIBERTY  AS  RELATED  TO  RIGHTS. 
—  DIFFERENT   KINDS  OF  LIBERTY  —  NATURAL,  CIVIL,  POLITICAL. 

Of  any  correct  system  of  moral  philosophy  one  charac- 
teristic must  be  that  the  active  powers  will,  in  their  move- 
ments, harmonize  with  each  other.  That  they  do  this 
in  connection  with  the  system  of  ends,  we  have  seen. 
Through  the  law  of  limitation  each  higher  power  is  har- 
monized with  the  lower,  while  the  highest  is  left  to  act 
freely  and  to  expand  in  its  connection  with  those  infinities 
to  which  it  is  naturally  related.  This  gives  us  a  philo- 
sophical system  for  the  individual  which  we  may  com- 
prehend. 

But  not  only  may  we  comprehend  both  means  and 
ends,  and  so  seek  them  intelligently;  we  may  also  seek 
ends  from  a  native  tendency  involving  in  it,  if  it  be  not 
instinct,  the  instinctive  principle ;  and  we  may  seek  ends 
by  faith.  These  principles  may  be  combined  in  very  differ- 
ent proportions.  They  must  be,  as  persons  are  younger  or 
more  advanced,  as  they  are  ignorant  or  instructed ;  but  it 
was  one  object  of  the  last  lecture  to  show  that  whatever 
the  proportions  might  be,  these  principles  might  be  so 
accepted  and  permeated  by  the  rational  nature  that  we 
should  be  rational  in  acting  from  them,  and  that  they 
would  be  in  perfect  harmony. 

But  God  does  not  regard  the  individual  only.    He  has 

22  253 


264  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE- 

instituted  families,  communities,  nations.  Of  these  he  de- 
signed the  well-being,  and  has  provided  for  it  in  the  organ- 
ization of  man.  Would,  then,  this  doctrine  of  ends,  with 
its  law  of  limitation,  be  an  adequate  basis  for  social  order  ? 

As  an  individual,  man  is  to  do  right ;  as  a  member  of  a 
community  he  has  rights.  What  it  is  on  this  system  to 
do  right,  we  have  seen.  Would  there  also  grow  from  it  a 
perfect  system  of  rights  ?  If  so,  there  would  be  in  it  an 
adequate  basis  of  social  order,  because  of  that  it  is  the 
one  condition  that  every  man  shall  hav-e  his  rights.  If  so, 
we  may  well  accept  a  doctrine  thus  providing  for  the  right 
ordering  not  only  of  the  individual,  but  of  the  community. 

On  this  system,  we  have  seen  that  that  is  right  which  a 
man  must  do  that  he  may  attain  the  end  for  which  God 
made  him.  Rights  must,  therefore,  be  based  on  the  rela- 
tion of  those  things  to  which  we  have  a  right  to  the  attain- 
ment of  our  own  end  or  that  of  others.  A  man  will  have 
a  right  to  everything  that  is  essential  to  the  attainment  of 
the  end  for  which  he  was  made.  So  a  parent  will  have  a 
right  to  everything  which  is  essential  to  the  attainment  of 
the  end  for  which  God  made  him  a  parent ;  and  society 
and  government  will  have  a  right  to  everything  necessary 
for  the  accomplishment  of  the  ends  for  which  they  were 
instituted — just  that,  and  no  more. 

An  exclusive  capacity,  inherent  or  given  in  the  order  of 
nature,  together  with  a  disposition  to  confer  upon  others 
what  is  essential  to  their  end,  is  the  ground  of  rights  over 
them.  Hence  the  rights  of  God,  of  parents,  and  of  gov- 
ernments. A  necessity  for  anything  essential  to  his  end  is 
the  ground  of  a  claim  by  the  individual  upon  any  who,  ii. 
the  order  of  nature  or  of  providence,  may  have  the  exclu- 
sive power  to  meet  that  necessity.  Hence  the  claims  ol 
children,  of  citiz'^ns,  of  the  poor,  of  humanity. 


ORIGIN  OP  RIGHTS.  255 

We  have  here  the  general  principle ;  and  if  it  be  cor- 
rect, then  will  the  basis  of  right  and  of  rights  be  the 
Bame,  only  it  will  be  viewed  in  different  relations.  We 
shall  have,  moreover,  what  is  not  a  little  desirable,  in  the 
distinction  drawn  between  the  higher  and  lower  powers,  a 
measure  of  rights  as  more  or  less  important  and  sacred. 
Thus  we  shall  have  rights  from  the  instincts,  that  is,  those 
which  would  respect  the  attainment  by  instinct  of  its  end ; 
and  rights  of  the  appetites,  or  those  which  would  respect 
the  attainment  by  them  of  their  end ;  and  so  of  the  de- 
sires, and  of  the  intellect,  and  of  the  natural  affections, 
and  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  nature.  Certainly  we  may 
say  that  he  who  should  be  in  no  way  so  encroached  upon 
or  obstructed  that  he  should  be  unable  to  attain  in  the 
best  way  all  the  ends  indicated  by  these  different  active 
principles  might  be  said  to  have  all  his  rights ;  and  if  he 
were  so  encroached  upon  that  he  could  not  reach  perfectly 
any  one  of  these  ends,  he  would  not  have  all  his  rights. 
The  truth  seems  to  be  that  in  the  tendency  of  every  active 
principle  towards  its  end  there  is  the  voice  of  God ;  and 
that  when,  through  the  intervention  of  others,  there  is  an 
obstruction  to  the  attainment  of  its  ends,  that  voice  utters 
itself  through  the  moral  nature  in  the  assertion  of  rights. 

That  this  is  the  history  of  the  idea  and  sentiment  of 
rights  —  for  it  is  not  merely  a  sentiment  —  seems  probable, 
because  it  is  foreshadowed  by  what  occurs  among  animals. 
That  they  have  the  perception  of  relations  and  the  senti- 
ment that  we  have,  cannot  be  supposed,  but  practically 
they  assert  what  seem  to  be  rights,  and  what  is  analogous 
to  them,  on  the  same  principle.  Let  an  animal  have  an 
instinct,  or  an  appetite,  or  a  natural  affection,  as  that  of 
the  parent  for  its  ofispring,  and  it  will  be  found  that  it  will 
be  ready  to  resist  and  beat  off  all  intrusion  that  would  pre* 


256  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

vent  it  from  accomplishing  the  end  thus  indicated,  and  the 
strength  of  endeavor  will  be  proportioned  to  the  impor- 
tance of  the  end.  So  is  it  with  man.  He  is  prompted 
by  some  original  impulse  to  the  attainment  of  an  end. 
This  would  imply  struggle  against  obstacles,  and  the  re- 
sistance of  any  interference  that  would  prevent  the  attain- 
ment of  the  end.  It  is  in  connection  with  such  promptings 
and  resistance  that  the  moral  reason  necessarily  forms  the 
notion  of  rights,  and  that  the  sentiment  is  felt ;  and  thus 
that  which  with  the  brute  is  defended  simply  by  force, 
comes  with  man  to  be  guarded  by  the  most  sacred  senti- 
ments, and  to  be  fortified  by  laws,  and  customs,  and  insti- 
tutions. 

From  this  view  of  the  origin  of  rights  it  will  appear 
that  the  idea  of  right  is  the  primary,  and  that  of  rights 
the  subordinate  and  secondary  idesi.  A  man  has  rights  in 
order  that  he  may  do  right.  If  there  were  no  end,  and 
so  nothing  right,  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  rights. 
Hence  rights,  however  real  and  important,  may  never  be 
defended  at  the  expense  of  right.  A  man  may  be  de- 
prived of  all  his  rights,  but  he  may  not  cease  to  adhere  to 
that  which  is  right. 

At  this  point  it  is  that  we  may  see  how  it  is  that  the 
destiny  of  a  man,  that  is,  his  highest  and  ultimate  destiny, 
can  never  be  taken  out  of  his  hands.  Men  may  deprive 
him  of  every  right,  but  they  can  bring  about  no  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  under  which  it  will  be  impossible  for 
a  man  in  those  circumstances  to  do  right.  It  may  be  a 
fearful  alternative,  and  there  may  be  unspeakable  wicked- 
ness in  presenting  it,  when  a  man  must  be  deprived  of  his 
rights,  even  of  that  to  life,  or  cease  to  do  right,  but  it  is 
the  glory  of  man's  nature  that  there  is  in  it  the  capacity 
of  adhering  to  what  is  right  under  all  deprivation  and 


RIGHTS  — ALIENABLE  AND  INALIENABLE.  257 

all  suffering.  If  it  were  not  for  this  —  the  higher  estima- 
tion of  right  than  of  rights  —  no  man  could  be  a  martyr. 
Right  belongs  to  man  in  his  individual  capacity,  rights 
from  his  relation  to  others. 

Of  rights  as  thus  originating  and  thus  distinguished 
from  light,  some  are  alienable,  and  some  inalienable ;  and 
we  find  in  the  distinctions  already  laid  down  the  ground  of 
this  difference.  An  inalienable  right  is  one  which  arises 
in  connection  with  the  pursuit  of  our  highest  end.  With 
that  nothing  may  interfere ;  and  a  right  thus  based  is  called 
inalienable  because  it  cannot  be  parted  with  freely  without 
crime,  and  cannot  be  rightly  taken  away  unless  forfeited 
by  crime. 

As  has  been  seen,  the  moral,  no  less  than  the  physical 
nature,  has  its  end ;  in  the  use  of  means  for  the  attainment 
by  that  nature  of  its  end,  the  idea  of  rights  the  most 
sacred  would  arise ;  and  to  whatever  is  an  essential  condi- 
tion for  the  attainment  of  that  end  man  has  an  inalienable 
right.  With  that  he  may  not  consent  to  part,  and  no  one 
may  rightfully  wrest  it  from  him ;  but  any  right  which  is 
not  thus  necessary  he  may  alienate. 

After  the  moral  nature,  the  natural  affections  and  the 
intellect  are  next  in  dignity.  That  the  rights  which  origi- 
nate in  connection  with  the  exercise  of  the  affections  are 
alienable,  appears,  since  a  parent  may  transfer  to  another 
all  the  rights  and  responsibilities  vested  in  him  as  a  parent. 
A  child  may  be  wholly  given  away,  its  name  changed,  and 
the  rights  of  the  parents  over  it  vacated  according  to  law. 
Than  this,  perhaps  a  stronger  case  could  not  be  put  under 
the  rights  of  the  affections.  Of  the  intellect  it  is  to  be 
said  that  its  operations  are  so  essential  to  the  full  attain- 
ment of  the  ends  of  the  moral  nature  that  it  can  hardly 
stand  on  its  own  ground ;  but  that  a  man  may  employ  his 
22* 


258  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

intellect  for  gain  at  the  will  of  another,  and,  so  far  as  that 
is  possible,  wholly  give  it  up  to  his  control,  provided  that 
control  does  not  interfere  with  the  attainment  by  the 
moral  nature  of  its  end,  will,  I  suppose,  be  conceded. 
Why  not?  The  intellect  is  simply  instrumental,  and  may 
be  employed  by  the  executive  power  in  any  way  that  shall 
not  contravene  a  moral  end.  Of  the  rights  that  originate 
from  the  desires,  as  that  of  property,  I  need  not .  speak,  as 
it  is  conceded  that  they  are  alienable. 

All  inalienable  rights  may  be  included  in  those  of  life 
and  liberty.  A  right  to  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  men- 
tioned in  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  would  be 
included  in  that  to  liberty,  since  no  man  can  have  liberty 
who  is  debarred  from  the  pursuit  of  that.  And  yet  lib- 
erty is  not  wholly  inalienable.  In  some  respects,  and  to 
some  extent,  a  man  may  part  with  his  liberty,  and  it  has 
not  always  been  easy  to  say  how  far  he  may  go  in  this, 
According  t©  the  principles  already  stated  he  may  part 
with  his  liberty  in  any  respect,  and  up  to  any  point,  that 
shall  not  interfere  with  the  attainment  of  his  highest 
end.  Beyond  this  he  can  make  no  contract  that  would 
not  be  unlawful,  and  so  not  binding ;  for  man  has  a  par- 
amount duty  to  God  respecting  himself,  which  is  as  fully 
binding  as  any  other  duty.  He  may  never  lawfully  do 
anything  with  himself  which  shall  prevent  the  great  pur- 
pose that  God  had  in  view  in  giving  him  being  from  being 
accomplished.  Except  as  an  indispensable  condition  for 
a  higher  end,  there  is  nothing  sacred  about  liberty;  it 
is  capable  of  being  wholly  abused,  and  if  it  may  be  con- 
ceived that  a  higher  end  may  be  promoted  by  giving  it 
up,  then  may  it  be  given  up.  According  to  this  those  Mo- 
ravian missionaries  who  sold  themselves  iiito  slavery  that 


SLAVERY.  259 

they  might  preach  the  gospel  to  the  slaves,  may  have  been 
justifiable.     They  sacrificed  liberty  for  a  higher  end. 

Inalienable  rights  are  those  of  which  a  man  cannot 
divest  himself  by  contract ;  which  ho  may  not,  under  any 
circumstances,  lawfully  demit ;  but  he  may  forfeit  them  by 
crime,  and  be  wrongfully  deprived  of  them  by  others.  It 
is  in  this  last  case,  in  th<e  violation  of  an  inalienable  right, 
that  the  gi-eatest  wrong  is  committed,  and  of  this  we  see 
the  reason  in  what  has  been  said  respecting  the  ground  of 
inalienable  rights.  To  deprive  a  man  of  life  is  everywhere 
regarded  as  the  highest  crime ;  and  next  to  that,  in  some 
circumstances  perhaps  even  greater,  is  the  crime  of  de- 
priving him  of  his  liberty.  When  this  is  so  done  as  to 
degrade  a  human  being,  and  to  come  between  him  and  his 
highest  end,  we  have  a  crime  that  involves  in  it  the  essence 
^f  all  crimes. 

Of  slavery,  so  far  as  it  interferes  with  inalienable  rights, 
our  abhorrence  cannot  be  too  strong.  It  interferes  with 
other  rights,  as  those  of  the  desires.  It  takes  property,  or 
the  labor  that  makes  property,  without  an  adequate  com- 
pensation. It  violates  the  rights  of  the  affections.  It  sep- 
arates husbands  and  wives,  and  parents  and  children ; 
putting,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  and  often  practically,  and 
by  the  necessities  of  the  system,  the  natural  affections  of 
the  slave  on  the  same  level  with  a  brute  instinct.  It  inter- 
feres with  the  rights  of  the  intellect.  It  keeps  men  in 
ignorance,  and  prohibits  them  from  learning  to  read  the 
word  of  God.  It  gives  the  slave  no  security  for  anything. 
Everything  must  depend  upon  the  will  of  the  master ;  and 
if  that  will  be  reasonable,  then  upon  his  life.  Now,  while 
it  is  true,  as  has  been  said,  that  no  man  can  be  so  placed 
that  hi  cannot  adhere  to  the  right,  yet  such  a  system, 
applied  to  masses  of  human  beings,  must  degiade  them. 


260  LECTURES  ON  MOpAL  SCIENCE. 

must  come  between  them  and  their  highest  good,  and  so 
touch  inalienable  rights.  The  highest  right  of  a  man  is  his 
right  to  himself,  and  any  right  of  property  that  would  so 
contravene  this  that  man  shall  be  treated  in  any  way  as  a 
brute,  or  degraded,  and  that  would  come  between  him  and 
his  end  as  designed  by  God,  is  impossible.  No  man  can 
give  it;  the  man  himself  cannot;  no  state  can  give  it,  and 
any  attempt  to  hold  such  property  is  sin  per  se. 

That  there  may  be  a  temporary  and  modified  system  of 
involuntary  servitude  without  infringing  upon  inalienable 
rights,  and  with  ultimate  benefit  to  those  so  held ;  that 
under  a  system  of  perpetual  servitude  the  actual  guilt 
will  depend  much  on  the  light  of  the  master,  and  the 
spirit  in  which  it  is  administered;  and  that,  under  pecu- 
liar circumstances,  the  legal  relation  of  master  may  be 
sustained  for  the  good  of  the  slave,  not  only  without 
guilt,  but  meritoriously,  may  be  conceded.  And  it  is 
because  this  partial  alienation  of  liberty  without  degra- 
dation is  possible;  and  because  guilt  is  so  modified  by 
acquiescence  in  established  customs  to  which  men  have 
been  used  from  their  infancy,  and  which  they  have  been 
taught  are  right ;  and  because,  from  obstacles  to  emanci- 
pation through  wicked  laws  and  the  disabilities  they  lay 
upon  the  freed-man,  or  from  the  helplessness  of  infancy 
or  of  old  age,  the  legal  relation  of  master  may  sometimes 
be  rightly  held  while  yet  the  system  itself  is  one  of  utter 
oppression  and  wrong,  often  and  generally  infringing  upon 
inaUenable  rights ;  and  because  of  the  immense  pecuniary 
interests  at  stake,  that  it  is  possible  for  men  to  hold  such 
discordant  views  on  this  subject,  and  that  their  views 
are  held  in  connection  with  feelings  so  intense. 

Having  thus  seen  what  is  the  origin  of  rights,  and  the 
distinction  between  those  that  are  alienable  and  those  that 


RIGHTS  OF*  TfllNGS  A^)  OP  PERSONS.  261 

are  inalienable,  we  turn  to  another  distinction.  There  are 
rights  which  have  it  for  their  object  to  guard  the  individual 
against  the  encroachments  of  others.  As  thus  used,  the 
sole  correlative  of  rights  is  obligation,  and  it  is  in  this  as- 
pect that  rights  are  more  generally  treated.  If  I  have  a 
right  to  a  piece  of  property,  all  others  are  under  obligation 
to  abstain  fi'om  its  use.  The  object  of  such  rights  is  so  to 
protect  the  individual  in  his  freedom,  that  he  may  accom- 
plish the  ends  indicated  by  his  actFve  powers.  Such  rights 
respect  things,  and  not  persons;  or,  if  they  respect  persons, 
it  is  only  as  they  are  so  related  to  us  that  we  may  by  them 
accomplish  our  own  ends. 

But  there  are  also  rights  over  persons.  The  object  of 
these  is  to  enable  those  in  whom  they  are  vested  to  aid 
others  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  ends.  Here  the 
correlative  of  rights  is  still  obligation.  If  the  parent  has 
a  right  over  the  child,  the  child  is  under  obligation  to 
respect  that  right.  But  here  the  right  involves  by  neces- 
sity not  only  an  obligation  on  the  part  of  others,  but  also 
a  duty  on  the  part  of  him  in  whom  the  light  is  vested, 
and  this  duty  thus  necessarily  involved  in  the  right,  and 
measured  by  it,  may  also  properly  be  called  its  correlative. 
The  foundation  of  the  right  here  and  in  the  other  case  is 
radically  the  same,  as  they  both  have  reference  to  the 
attainment  of  an  end ;  and  yet  there  is  an  essential  differ- 
ence. In  the  first  case  the  ground  of  the  right  is  the  ne- 
cessity of  that  to  which  the  individual  has  a  right  in  order 
to  the  attainment  by  himself  of  his  own  ends,  that  is,  of 
those  indicated  by  his  various  active  powers.  But  in  the 
relations  of  society  human  beings  are  not  always  capable 
of  attaining  these  ends  without  aid  from  others.  In  that 
case  others  may  have  rights  over  them,  natural  or  ac- 
quired ;  but  the  ground  and  measure  of  those  rights  will 


2G2  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE.     * 

be  found  in  the  necessity  there  is  for  aid  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  those  ends,  and  in  the  power  and  duty  of 
those  who  possess  the  rights  to  render  that  aid. 

In  what  has  now  been  said  we  have  a  clear  distinction 
between  rights  over  things  and  those  over  persons.  This 
distinction  was  indicated  by  Blackstone,  under  the  heads 
"Rights  of  Things"  and  "  Rights  of  Persons,"  but  his  state- 
ment of  amy  ground  for  it  is  so  indistinct  that  in  a  note  to 
Chitty's  edition  of  his  Vork  it  is  said  that  "  the  distinction 
of  rights  of  persons  and  rights  of  things  in  the  first  two 
books  of  the  Commentaries  seems  to  have  no  other  differ- 
ence than  the  antithesis  of  the  expression."  As  the  most 
he  could  make  of  it,  the  annotator  adds,  "  The  distinction 
intei;ded  by  the  learned  judge  in  the  first  two  books  ap- 
pears to  be  in  a  great  degree  that  of  the  rights  of  persona 
in  public  stations,  and  the  rights  of  persons  in  private  sta- 
tions." This  is  wholly  aside  from  the  real  ground  of  the 
distinction.  As  has  been  said,  rights  over  persons  haye 
respect  to  the  accomplishment  of  ends  by  those  persons, 
and  involve  duties;  while  rights  over  things  respect  the 
accomphshment  of  ends  by  ourselves,  and  do  not  in  the 
same  way  involve  duties. 

This  distinction  is  needed  because  the  rights  over  per- 
sons are  numerous  and  important,  and  without  it  we  have 
no  way  of  fixing  precisely  the  ground  and  limits  of  those 
rights.  These  are  the  rights  of  parents,  of  guardians,  of 
teachers,  so  far  as  they  have  also  guidance  and  control ; 
they  are,  in  general,  the  rights  of  those  that  govern ;  and 
have,  standing  over  against  them,  not  only  correspond- 
ing obligations,  but  also  corresponding  rights.  Wherever 
there  is  a  right  to  govern,  there  is  a  corresponding  right  to 
be  govenied  rightly.  What  it  is  to  be  goveraed  rightly  is 
implied  in  what  has  already  been  said.     A  man  ought  to 


^^      NATURAL  LIMIT  OP  RIGHTS.  S63 

govern  another  on  the  same  principle  on  which  he  ought 
to  govern  each  of  his  separate  faculties,  and  his  whole 
self.  He  governs  those  faculties  rightly  when  he  causes 
each  to  accomplish  its  end.  He  governs  himself  rightly 
when  he  accomplishes  his  own  end  ;  and  he  governs  another 
rightly  when  his  government  is  wisely  directed  to  enable 
that  other  to  accomplish  his  end.  This  is  the  law  of  limi- 
tation here.  Hence  the  parent  has  a  right,  so  far  as  the 
destiny  of  the  child  is  committed  to  him,  to  all  the  control 
necessary  to  secure  for  the  child  its  true  end.  Whatever 
power  he  may  use  for  any  other  end  is  not  properly  that 
of  a  parent,  since  it  would  not  grow  out  of  the  parental 
relation  as  instituted  by  God.  That  relation  is  one  of 
guardianship  of  the  child  with  reference  to  the  ends  for 
which  he  was  made,  and  especially  to  his  highest  end ; 
and  if  the  child  could  certainly  know  that  he  could  secure 
his  highest  end  only  by  disobeying  his  parent,  he  would 
be  bound  to  disobey  him.  This  shows  the  natural  limit  to 
the  rights,  and  so  to  the  authority  of  the  parent.  And 
what  is  thus  true  of  a  parent  is  equally  true  of  a  guardian, 
a  teacher,  a  magistrate,  a  government.  So  God  goveras. 
This  is  the  model  he  sets  before  us,  and  he  has  given  no 
rights  to  any  of  his  creatures  that  will  justify  them  in 
governing  upon  any  other  principle. 

Very  beautiful  is  the  relation  thus  estabhshed  between 
the  governing  and  the  governed,  and  quite  in  accordance 
with  what  has  been  previously  said.  We  have  seen  how 
beautiful  is  that  relation  of  all  things  as  conditioning  and 
conditioned  by  wliich  there  is  a  continual  subserviency  of 
that  which  is  lower  to  a  higher  end,  till  this  univei-se,  as 
more  immediately  known  to  us,  is  built  up  from  its  base  to 
its  apex,  and  culminates  in  man.  In  this  process  the  lower 
force  is  in  dependent  of  that  which  is  higher  and  unmodi- 


S64  UECTtJRES  OK  MORAL  SCIENCE/ 

tied  by  it  till  we  reach  organization.  In  all  organization, 
while  the  higher  is  built  up  by  the  lower,  and  constantly 
sustained  by  it,  yet  the  higher  reacts  upon  the  lower,  and 
becomes  in  its  turn  essential  to  that.  The  stomach  and 
digestive  system  are  for  the  brain.  They  build  it  up  ;  but 
the  brain  reacts  upon  them,  and  unless  it  be  healthy  they 
will  fail.  Where  organization  begins,  the  movement  within 
each  organism  becomes  circular,  and  not  merely  one  of  up- 
building from  a  base.  And  now,  when  we  pass  into  the 
region  of  intelligence,  we  find  provision  not  merely  for  a 
system  of  forces  acting  from  below  to  build  up  that  which 
is  above,  but  that  there  shall  be  forces  from  above  intelli- 
gently acting  to  benefit  if  not  to  elevate  that  which  is 
below.  At  first,  and  in  mere  organizations,  the  lower 
builds  up  the  higher,  and  sustains  it,  and  is  wholly  for 
that.  Any  action  from  the  higher  to  the  lower  is  simply 
to  sustain  the  lower  in  its  own  place  and  function  as  tribu- 
tary, but  never  to  elevate  it  out  of  that  sphere.  But  when 
we  reach  the  sphere  of  intelligence  the  object  of  the  action 
from  above  is  to  elevate  the  lower.  When  the  summit  is 
reached,  then,  through  this  arrangement  of  rights  and  of 
duties,  a  circle  is  formed  by  which  the  system  works  from 
the  top,  so  that  that  which  is  spiritual  is  drawn  up  from 
above,  since  there  could  have  been  no  force  from  below 
adequate  to  push  it  up.  Certainly  the  parent,  as  a  parent, 
is  for  the  sake  of  the  child,  and  his  end  in  that  relation  is 
accomplished  when  he  has  brought  the  child  up  to  his 
own  elevation,  or,  rather,  to  what  that  elevation  ought  to 
be.  In  doing  this  there  may  be,  there  ought  to  be  ties 
formed  that  shall  be  permanent,  that,  as  spiritual,  shall  be 
eternal,  and  so  the  highest  here  minister  to  that  which  is 
still  higher ;  but  the  parental  oflice,  and  the  merely  natural 
aflfections  connected  with  it,  have  exhausted  themselves 


RECEIVING  AND  GIVING.  265 

when  the  parent  who  is  what  he  should  be  has  raised  the 
child  to  his  own  elevation.  So  all  analogy  teaches.  So 
is  it  with  every  animal  that  has  natural  affection ;  and 
where  provision  is  made  for  the  young  independently  of 
the  parent,  the  affection  is  not  given. 

Up  to  the  point  where  giving  from  above  begins  to  ele- 
vate that  which  is  below,  if  there  may  be  said  to  be  bles- 
sedness at  all,  it  had  been  more  blessed  to  receive  than  to 
give.  The  giving  was  always  by  the  lower  to  the  higher, 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  higher.  But  we  now  reach  a  point 
where  the  giving  is  by  that  which  is  above,  for  the  sake  of 
that  which  is  below,  and  God  has  connected  with  it,  in 
the  end  which  it  accomplishes,  in  the  affections  which  it 
gratifies,  and  in  the  improvement,  and  growth,  and  dignity 
of  the  giver,  a  blessedness  that  could  not  come  from  re- 
ceiving. It  is  here,  indeed,  that  we  have  the  element  of 
the  noblest  giving.  It  is  not  simply  that  which  addresses 
itself  to  the  animal  nature  and  satisfies  want.  It  is  tlia% 
when  it  is  needed,  always  that ;  but  enwrapping  and  bear- 
ing with  it  a  giving  of  affection  and  self-sacrifice  that 
would  lift  up  that  which  is  below  it ;  and  if  this  element 
be  wanting,  no  giving  can  avail  much,  and  the  highest 
blessedness  of  it  cannot  be  known. 

In  speaking  of  the  rights  that  involve  duties,  I  have 
referred  almost  wholly  to  those  of  parents ;  but  the  prin- 
ciple applies  equally  to  the  rights  and  duties  of  society 
and  of  government.  These,  scarcely  less  than  the  parental 
relation,  are  essential  for  the  perfection  of  the  individual. 
Without  them  he  cannot  find  his  sphere,  and  scope  for  the 
expression  of  his  whole  nature.  It  is,  indeed,  that  consti- 
tution by  which  society  is  thus  necessary,  that  makes  a 
number  of  individuals  a  community,  that  makes  the  state 
an  institution  of  God,  and  tire  race  a  unity.    An  exclusive 

83 


2^6  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

capacity  to  confer  such  aid,  given  in  the  order  of  nature, 
confers  rights.  A  necessity  that  such  aid  should  be  con- 
ferred is  the  ground  of  a  claim.  Hence  the  reciprocal  rights 
and  duties  of  the  family,  of  the  state,  and  of  humanity. 

It  is  to  governments  as  founded  upon  this  principle  that 
attention  is  especially  needed.  Practically,  they  have  too 
often  been  instruments  of  oppression.  They  have  kept 
down  and  degraded  the  governed.  It  is  among  the  sad- 
dest features  of  the  history  of  our  world  that  the  very 
conception  and  ground  of  this  beautiful  and  beneficent 
function  of  government  should  have  been  so  wholly  lost 
sight  of,  and  government  so  perverted  to  purposes  direct- 
ly opposite  to  those  for  which  it  was  intended.  A  vast 
abstraction,  or,  if  you  please,  a  general  conception  called 
the  state,  has  been  idolized.  It  has  been  supposed  that 
the  individual  was  wholly  for  that ;  and  so,  partly  through 
a  blind  and  perverted  instinct  of  patriotism  in  the  people, 
the  very  institution  which  ought  to  have  been  the  most 
efficient  for  their  elevation  has  often  been  the  most  potent 
engine  for  their  oppression  and  degradation.  So  it  has 
been ;  so  it  is  still. 

But  in  the  light  of  our  discussion,  government  has  no 
right  to  be,  except  as  it  is  necessary  to  secure  the  ends  of 
the  individual  in  his  social  capacity ;  and  it  must,  therefore, 
be  bound  so  to  be  as  to  secure  these  ends  in  the  best  man- 
ner. This  is  the  whole  principle,  and  only  the  full  applica- 
tion of  it  is  needed  to  make  governmental  and  social 
movements  on  the  earth  correspond  in  their  order  and 
beauty  to  the  movements  of  the  heavens.  On  this  princi- 
ple there  could  be  no  conflicting  rights  as  between  the 
individual  and  the  government.  The  government  could 
require — from  the  very  ground  of  its  rights  as  already 
stated,  it  could   have  a  right  to  require  —  nothing  that 


.RIGHTS  OP  GOVEIINMENT.  267 

would  not  be  in  harmony  with  the  ends  of  the  individual, 
and  whatever  the  government  might  need  to  accomplish 
its  ends  that  should  be  thus  in  harmony,  the  individual 
would  be  bound  to  concede. 

This  is  the  general  statement.  To  obviate  practical  dif- 
ficulties, however,  it  must  be  observed  that  when  it  is 
said  that  government  is  for  the  individual,  it  is  not  meant 
that  it  is  for  any  one  individual  especially,  but  for  all  tlie 
individuals  of  whom  the  society  is  composed.  If,  there- 
fore, a  case  should  occur  in  which  the  good  of  the  society 
would  require  that  the  alienable  rights  of  the  individual 
should  be,  not,  as  is  generally  said,  given  up,  but  alienated 
for  an  equitable  consideration,  the  government,  as  the  agent 
of  society,  has  the  right  to  enforce  such  alienation.  This 
paramount  right  government  has,  and  must  have,  from  the 
end  for  which  it  was  instituted.  Is  it  for  the  good  of  soci- 
ety that  it  should  take  the  land  of  a  man  for  a  road?  It 
has  a  paramount  right,  and  takes  it;  but  it  gives  him  an 
equivalent.  It  would  be  thought  monstrous  to  take  it 
otherwise.  Is  it  again  for  the  good  of  society  that  it 
should  take  the  time,  more  valuable  it  may  be  than  land, 
of  an  innocent  but  accused  man,  that  he  may  be  tried  ?  It 
has  a  paramount  right,  and  takes  it,  but  it  makes  no  com- 
pensation. But  that  society  is  bound  in  equity  to  make  it, 
there  can  be  no  doubt. 

The  right  of  society  is  to  take,  for  its  own  good,  the 
alienable  rights  of  the  individual,  on  condition  that  those 
rights  shall  be  surrendered  only  for  a  fair  equivalent.  This 
the  ends  of  society,  and  so  of  government,  require.  What 
society  says  to  the  individual  is,  "We  will  give  you  as 
ample  means  as  you  now  have  to  accomplish  your  ends ;  wo 
interfere  therefore  with  none  of  your  fundamental  rights; 
but  we  cannot  suffer  mere  will  or  caprice  to  stand  in  the 


268  LECTURES  ON  MOILiL  SCIENCE. 

way  of  the  good  of  the  whole."  The  right  to  say  this  I 
do  not  suppose  society  gets  from  any  consent  of  the  indi- 
vidual, or  any  agreement  on  his  part  to  surrender  certain 
rights;  but  because  it  is  of  divine  origin,  and  has,  there- 
fore, an  inherent  right  to  accomplish  its  ends.  This  it 
must  do  for  the  sake  of  the  individual,  since  his  perfection 
can  be  reached  only  through  society,  and  hence,  according 
to  the  doctrine  stated,  the  individual  can  have  no  rights  not 
compatible  with  the  ends  of  society.  All  alienable  rights 
must  be  held  by  him  subject  to  the  condition  that  when 
they  interfere  with  the  good  of  the  whole,  they  shall  so  far 
cease  to  be  rights  that  they  may  be  alienated  by  the  will 
of  society  regularly  expressed  through  its  government,  and 
for  a  fair  compensation.  According  to  this  view,  the  rights 
of  the  individual  and  of  society  would  be  perfectly  har- 
monized. At  least,  there  could  be  no  conflict  in  regard  to 
alienable  rights.  Nor  could  there  be  any  respecting  those 
that  are  inalienable,  since  those  are  sacred.  Those  society 
may  not  touch.  It  is  impossible  that  any  legitimate  end  oi 
society  should  be  gained  "by  trenching  in  any  degree  upon 
any  inalienable  right,  and  therefore  society  can  have  no 
right  to  do  so.  Injustice,  tyranny,  may  do  anything.  A 
triumph  of  wrong  there  may  be,  but  there  can  be  no  con- 
flict of  rights. 

From  the  consideration  of  rights  we  pass  to  that  of  lib- 
erty, of  which  the  conception  of  rights  is  both  the  basis 
and  the  natural  limit.  Rights  and  liberty!  These  are 
among  the  most  exciting  and  stimulating  words  of  the 
English  language,  and  unless  our  view  of  their  grounds 
and  limitations  be  distinct  they  may  become  words  of  de- 
lusion and  mischief,  —  cabalistic  words  for  the  popular 
declaimer  and  demagogue  to  conjure  with.  It  is  a  slow 
process  by  which  the  conceptions   connected  with  such 


LIBERTY  AND  LAW.  269 

words  in  the  popular  mind  become  clear  and  steady ;  but 
nothing  is  more  needed,  especially  in  a  government  like 
ours ;  and  whoever  contributes  to  it  in  any  degree  is  doing 
the  public  good  service. 

It  has  just  been  said  that  rights  are  the  basis  and  natu- 
ral limit  of  liberty.  If  there  were  no  rights  there  could  be 
no  law.  God  would  have  no  right  to  give  or  to  enforce 
one,  and  there  would  be  nothing  for  law  to  guard.  Law 
is  the  guardian  of  rights  and  the  condition  of  liberty,  since 
without  law  there  would  be  anarchy,  which  is  the  opposite 
of  liberty.  It  is,  I  know,  usually  thought  that  the  idea 
of  liberty  is  the  primary  one,  and  that  of  law  secondary, 
as  coming  in  to  restrain  liberty ;  but  if  we  take  law  in  its 
widest  sense  as  that  which  gives  stability  and  regularity, 
and  a  rational  ground  of  expectation,  we  shall  see  that 
without  the  conception  of  that  there  could  be  no  ground 
of  choice  or  of  action,  and  so  none  for  liberty ;  so  that  it 
may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  conception  of  law  does 
not  underlie  that  of  liberty  of  any  kind,  as  it  certainly 
does  that  of  all  desirable  and  rational  liberty.  We  may, 
indeed,  conceive  of  what  is  called  absolute  liberty,  by 
which  is  meant  a  liberty  of  doing,  without  question  or 
control,  whatever  the  individual  i^leases.  For  a  single  iso- 
lated individual  this  is  conceivable,  but  not  in  a  commu- 
nity of  individuals,  each  having  free  will  and  indepen- 
dent choices.  Such  a  liberty  would  be  an  element  of  utter 
confusion,  like  that  which  would  ensue  in  the  physical  ele- 
ments if  their  affinities  were  unloosed  and  wholly  capri- 
cidns,  so  that  there  were  nothing  of  regularity  in  their 
movements.  We  may  well  conclude,  then,  that  the  first 
liberty  among  created  beings  was  born  and  cradled  and 
trained  amidst  the  sanctities  of  law,  and  that  any  exercise 

23* 


270  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

of  it  except  under  the  control  and  guidance  of  law  must 
be  a  curse. 

Taking  liberty,  then,  as  known  by  us,  and  desirable  foi 
us,  we  inquire  after  its  different  kinds. 

And,  first,  there  is  natural  liberty.  This  is  not  absolute 
liberty.  That  is  not  natural.  The  law  of  any  being  is 
indicated  in  its  nature,  and  no  liberty  can  be  natural  that 
would  overstep  that  natural  law.  Than  this  nothing  could 
be  more  unnatural.  But  natural  liberty  is  simply  that 
which  is  commensurate  with  natural  rights.  Every  man 
has  originally  a  natural  right  to  use  all  the  means  fur- 
nished him  by  God  for  the  attainment  of  the  legitimate 
end  indicated  by  each  of  the  active  principles  of  his  na- 
ture ;  and  his  natural  liberty  would  be  such  a  freedom 
from  restraint  that  he  could  avail  himself  of  all  such 
means  for  the  attainment  of  those  ends.  If  God  has  not 
furnished  the  means  of  doing  this  without  encroaching 
on  the  rights  of  others,  then  his  liberty  and  his  rights  find 
their  limit  together.  Let  a  man  have  a  liberty  by  which 
he  may  attain  every  end  of  his  being  which  God  has  given 
him  the  means  of  attaining ;  let  no  man  come  wrongfully 
between  him  and  those  means,  and  he  has  all  the  liberty 
that  any  being  ought  to  have  or  that  can  be  natural  to 
any.  This,  then,  is  natural  liberty  —  a  liberty  to  use  all 
the  means  that  God  gives  a  man  for  the  attainment  of  the 
ends  indicated  through  his  nature. 

A  man  has  natural  liberty  to  use  the  means  above  indi- 
cated. Has  he  also  a  natural  right  to  defend  himself  in 
such  use  ?  This  is  commonly  said,  and  that  the  right  of 
society  to  defend  the  individual  in  the  use  and  enjoyment 
of  these  means  is  from  a  voluntary  transference  of  such 
right  by  the  individual  to  society.  But  society  is  natural, 
and  as  such  has  rights  and  duties ;  and  looking  at  its  end, 


CIVIL  LIBERTY.  271 

we  shall  find  it  to  be  its  natural  right  and  duty  to  protect 
the  individual  in  the  use  of  these  means.  If,  in  an  unnat- 
ural state  of  isolation,  the  individual  has  a  right  to  defend 
himself  in  the  enjoyment  of  these  means,  it  may  be  quite  as 
correct  to  say  that  he  gets  that  right  by  a  transference  of 
it  from  society,  as  to  say  that,  in  ordinary  circumstances 
and  in  a  natural  state,  society  gets  the  right  by  a  transfer- 
ence of  it  from  the  individual.  Saying  this  we  avoid  all 
conflict  of  rights ;  we  avoid  the  unnatural  and  violent  sup- 
position that  man  is  necessitated  to  give  up  any  of  his 
natural  rights  in  order  to  secure  the  remainder. 

We  next  inquire  what  civil  liberty  is.  Of  this  it  is 
thought  by  some  that  the  notion  is  so  complex  that  it  can- 
not be  defined,  but  only  described,  and  the  circumstances 
stated  in  which  it  is  enjoyed.  But  having  seen  what  nat- 
ural liberty  is,  we  say  that  civil  liberty  is  natural  liberty 
under  the  guardianship  and  guarantee  of  an  organized 
society.  It  is  the  liberty  which  a  man  enjoys  when  his 
rights  are  protected  and  guarantied  by  society  instead  of 
himself.  Hence  the  only  abridgment,  if  such  it  may  be 
called,  of  natural  liberty  needed  that  it  may  become  civil 
liberty  will  respect  the  means  of  attaining  the  end,  and 
not  the  end  itself.  Man  has  a  natural  right  both  to  defend 
and  to  use  and  enjoy  the  property  produced  by  his  own 
labor ;  but  the  right  of  defence  vests  in  society,  and  by 
suffering  it  to  remain  there  he  enjoys  greater  freedom  and 
security  in  the  use  of  his  property.  This  freedom  and 
security  are  civil  liberty.  It  consists  in  a  liberty  and  se- 
curity in  enjoying  the  end  which  can  be  attained  only  by 
leaving  with  society  the  responsibility,  and  so  the  right  of 
protecting  ourselves  in  that  enjoyment.  But  protection  is 
not  in  itself  an  end  ;  it  is  only  a  means ;  and  therefore  we 
are  .ib.v.ivs  to  remember  that  in  requiring  us  to  leave  witli 


272  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

society  a  portion  of  our  rights  civil  liberty  only  requires 
us  thus  to  leave  the  right  to  employ  means,  but  never  to 
abandon  the  right  to  enjoy  ends. 

The  perfection  of  civil  liberty  will  be  measured  by  the 
degree  of  freedom  and  security  that  can  be  attained  in  the 
enjoyment  of  every  right  which  can  be  left  to  the  guar- 
dianship of  society.  Every  right  cannot  be  thus  left,  and 
the  liberty  to  defend  such  right  must  remain  with  the 
individual;  but  perfect  civil  liberty  will  be  the  greatest 
possible  freedom  and  security  under  the  guardianship  of 
society  for  every  right  that  naturally  belongs  to  its  care. 
It  may  be  added  that,  under  civil  society,  such  liberty,  as 
essential  to  the  end  of  the  individual  as  a  social  being,  is 
a  natural  right. 

In  the  view  of  it  above  taken  civil  liberty  is  for  the  per- 
fection of  the  individual.  It  may  also  be  regarded  as  it 
stands  related  to  the  ends  of  society  as  a  whole.  The 
object  is  not  only  to  find  the  point  where  the  action  of  the 
whole  shall  either  be  for  the  good  of  the  individual,  or  not 
militate  against  it ;  but  also  where  the  action  of  the  indi- 
vidual shall  either  be  for  the  good  of  the  whole,  or  not 
militate  against  that.  That  these  points  may  be  found, 
and  that  they  would  coincide,  cannot  be  doubted  by  any 
who  know  the  balancings,  and  adjustments,  and  harmonies 
there  are  in  the  works  of  God,  and  for  which  we  might 
expect  the  most  perfect  provision  in  the  highest  depart- 
ment of  those  works.  This  would  bring  the  interests  of 
the  individual  as  an  individual  and  his  interests  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  community  into  perfect  harmony.  In  this  point 
of  view  civil  liberty  would  be  conditioned  on  such  a  re- 
straint of  individual  action  as  should  guard  the  interests 
of  the  whole  from  injury. 

Civil  liberty,  as  has  been  said,  is  a  natural  right.    Hence, 


THE  RIGHT  TO  VOTE.  273 

under  a  free  government,  it  is  accorded  to  all,  whether  they 
are  citizens  or  not.  But  the  right  to  take  a  part  in  the 
government,  to  say  who  shall  administer  it,  and  what  pro- 
visions shall  be  made  for  the  maintenance  of  civil  liberty, 
is  not  a  natural  right.  It  belongs  to  society  as  a  whole, 
but  not  to  every  individual  in  that  society.  It  is  not  gen- 
erally supposed  to  belong  to  minors,  to  women,  to  foreign- 
ers, except  on  specified  conditions,  and  in  the  most  of  our 
States  it  is  not  granted  to  the  free  blacks.  What  the  prin- 
ciples are  on  which  this  right  should  be  conceded,  and 
what  should  be  their  application  in  particular  cases,  it  is 
not  always  easy  to  say.  Here  an  end  is  to  be  secured. 
Society  is  bound  to  secure  it  in  the  best  way  it  can,  but 
the  means  and  materials  for  doing  this  may  be  very  differ- 
ent at  different  times  and  in  different  nations. 

On  this  point  it  may  be  said,  fii*st,  that  a  reasonable  pre- 
sumption of  hostility  to  the  welfare  of  the  society  would 
be  a  sufficient  ground  for  excluding  any  one  from  having 
a  voice  in  the  government.  Hence  criminals  are  excluded; 
and  there  may  be  factions,  or  races,  known  to  be  hostile  to 
the  government,  who  may  be  justly  excluded  while  that 
hostility  remains. 

Secondly.  Incompetency  to  understand  and  promote  the 
ends  of  society  would  be  a  sufficient  ground  for  exclusion 
from  political  rights.  It  is  on  this  ground  that  minors  are 
excluded,  and  foreigners  who  are  presumed  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  nature  and  working  of  institutions  under  which 
they  have  but  recently  come.  It  is  true  that  many  minors, 
and  many  foreigners  not  naturalized,  are  better  qualified 
to  exercise  political  rights,  and  so  for  what  is  sometimes 
called  political  liberty,  than  many  who  do  exercise  those 
rights;  but  where  there" is  no  absolute  right  society  may, 
and  must,  fix  the  best  average  limit  it  can.    According  to 


274  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

this,  under  institutions  like  ours,  society  would  have  a  right 
to  say,  as  has  been  proposed,  that  no  man  should  vote  who 
could  not  read.  It  may  be  expedient  in  given  circumstan- 
ces that  such  persons  should  vote,  but  they  have  no  right. 
It  may  be  wrong  that  they  should  be  permitted  to  do  it. 
Society  cannot  be  bound  to  entrust  its  interests  and  desti- 
nies to  ignorance,  or  chance,  or  passion. 

Once  more ;  if  there  be  such  relations  established  by  God 
that  one  portion  of  the  community  cannot  take  part  in  ad- 
ministering the  government  without  injury  to  the  ends  of 
society,  then  that  portion  may  be  excluded.  It  must  be  on 
this  ground,  if  upon  any,  that  women  are  to  be  excluded 
from  the  right  of  voting  and  holding  office  under  our  gov- 
ernment. They  cannot  be  excluded  on  the  ground  that 
they  are  not  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  government, 
or  that  they  are  incompetent.  But  it  is  never  safe  to  vio- 
late any  true  instinct  of  humanity.  There  are  some  things 
that  depend  not  so  much  upon  reasoning  as  upon  senti- 
ment and  a  felt  propriety.  When  a  country  is  invaded 
and  civil  liberty  is  to  be  defended,  it  is  not  so  much  from 
any  laying  down  of  principles  and  formal  reasoning  as  from 
a  felt  propriety  that  the  women  remain  at  home,  while  the 
men  go  to  the  battle.  In  the  same  way,  when  civil  liberty 
IS  to  be  instituted  and  sustained,  it  may  be  from  the  same 
felt  propriety  that  men  alone  should  be  concerned  in  the 
conflicts  of  public  debate,  and  at  the  polls.  It  may  be 
that  in  her  relations  to  man,  when  she  is  elevated  to  her 
true  position,  God  has  made  provision  that  her  influence 
shall  as  effectually  reach  a  free  government  for  good  as  if 
she  were  immediately  concerned  in  it;  or  if  not,  there 
may  be  obstacles  which  would  render  it  inexpedient  that 
she  should  have  that  power  at  present ;  and  in  either  case 
society  would  have  the  right  to  withhold  it.    Certainly,  if 


DUTIES  INVOLVED  IN  RIGHTS.  275 

there  be  such  relations  established  by  God  that  one  por- 
tion of  the  community  cannot  take  part  in  the  govern- 
ment without  injury  to  society,  then  that  portion  may  be 
excluded.  How  far  this  may  be  the  case  in  any  particular 
instance,  each  society  must  judge  for  itself,  as  it  does  upon 
other  and  similar  questions. 

I  cannot  close  this  lecture  without  observing  that  this 
subject  of  rights,  regarded  as  a  barrier  against  encroach- 
ment, knd  as  involving  duties,  demands  the  especial  atten- 
tion of  a  free  people.  Among  such  a  people  there  will 
always  be  a  tendency  to  regard  liberty  as  a  right  of  unre- 
strained action,  and  rights  as  something  to  be  enforced. 
It  is  those  days  when  liberty  was  gained  and  rights  en- 
forced that  nations  celebrate.  But  it  is  easier  to  gain  liberty 
and  enforce  rights  than,  having  gained  them,  to  practise 
the  self-control  that  shall  respect  rights,  and  the  self-denial 
and  faithfulness  and  patient  waiting  required  in  perform- 
ing the  duties  that  our  rights  involve.  This  is  the  turning 
point  with  us.  Can  we  use  our  freedom  and  enjoy  our 
rights  without  encroaching  upon  the  liberty  and  the  rights 
of  others  ?  Will  parents,  and  magistrates,  and  citizens, 
fulfil  the  duties  that  correspond  to  their  rights?  Will 
they  see  that  individual  and  unauthorized  action  is  so 
restrained  that  all  shall  have  their  rights  ?  There  is  no 
grander  sight  than  that  of  a  great  people,  powerful  and 
free,  under  the  guidance  of  a  comprehensive  wisdom,' 
always  arresting  its  action  at  the  point  where  it  touches 
the  rights  of  others,  protecting  those  of  the  most  feeble, 
and  trusting  calmly  for  its  aggrandizement  to  the  gradual 
but  resistless  power  of  intelligence,  industry,  and  freedom, 
under  the  guidance  of  justice.  And  there  is  no  sadder 
sight  than  such  a  people  governed  by  fraud  and  cunning, 
torn  by  faction,  disintegrated  by  selfishness,  denying  to 


276  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Others  what  they  claim  for  themselves,  with  no  faith  in 
the  natural  power  of  free  institutions  to  perpetuate  and 
extend  themselves  without  force,  and  thus  putting  into  the 
hands  of  others  a  cup,  which,  in  the  circuit  and  balance  of 
God's  retributions,  must  be  returned  to  their  own  lips,  and 
which  they  must  be  compelled  to  drain  to  the  very  dregs. 


LECTURE    XII. 

A    FUTUBB    LIFE. —ITS    RELATION    TO   MOKALITY.  — THE   PHYSICAL   ABOU- 
MENT.  — MORAL  ARGUMENTS. 

What  man  ought  to  do  will  depend  on  the  end  for 
which  he  was  made.  If  he  was  made  for  this  world  only, 
then  he  ought  to  live  for  this  world.  But  if  he  was  also 
made  for  a  life  after  this,  and  his  conduct  in  this  life  would 
affect  his  condition  in  that,  then  he  ought  to  live  with 
reference  to  that.  We  labor  for  the  moiTOW,  because  we 
expect  to  awake  in  the  morning.  It  is  thus  that  the  doc- 
trine of  a  future  life  connects  itself  with  morality ;  and  as 
we  have  seen  that  man  is  connected  with  all  that  is 
below  him,  it  will  be  a  fitting  close  of  our  subject  to 
inquire  what  indications  there  are  in  his  nature  that  he  is 
also  connected  with  that  which  is  beyond  and  above  him. 

Than  this  no  inquiry  can  be  of  greater  interest. 
Whether  there  is  a  God  or  not ;  whether  this  visible  struc- 
ture of  the  universe  is  to  be  etenial  or  not ;  whether  the 
generations  of  men  are  to  be  perpetuated,  or  are  to  be  de- 
stroyed by  some  general  convulsion  of  nature,  are  questions 
that  little  concern  the  individual  man  if  he  is  evoked  into 
being  like  the  bubble  upon  the  ocean,  to  appear  but  for  a 
moment,  and  then  vanish  forever. 

The  first  indication  of  a  future  life  that  I  shall  mention 
is  drawn  from  the  nature  of  the  mind  as  simple  and  indi- 
visible, and  so  incapable  of  destruction  except  by  annihi- 
lation. 

S4  977 


278  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Concerning  that  which  underlies  the  power  of  thought 
three  suppositions  may  be  made,  and  only  three.  It  must 
belong  either  to  one  single,  indivisible,  ultimate  particle  of 
matter;  or  to  a  number  of  such  particles  united  together; 
or  to  what  we  must  call  an  immaterial  substance  entirely 
distinct  from  matter. 

Does  the  power  of  thought,  then,  reside  in  a  single,  indi- 
visible, ultimate  particle  of  matter?  I  think  not,  because 
these  particles  are  so  minute.  No  microscope  can  reach 
them.  If  a  single  grain  of  the  salts  of  iron  be  put  into 
thirty  thousand  pints  of  water,  it  can  be  detected  by  exper- 
iment in  every  drop  of  that  water.  A  hare,  in  his  flight, 
leaves  particles  of  insensible  perspiration  upon  the  earth  at 
every  footfall.  These  must  be  inconceivably  minute,  as 
they  are  constantly  given  off  so  long  as  the  hound  can  fol- 
low the  track.  But  to  suppose  that  one  such  ultimate  par- 
ticle has,  in  addition  to  the  properties  of  matter,  those  of 
thought,  feeling,  memory,  imagination,  judgment,  that  it 
studies  fluxions  and  metaphysics,  indites  poems,  and  gov- 
erns nations,  seems  absurd. 

But  I  need  not  dwell  on  this,  because  those  materialists 
who  deny  a  future  life  do  not  advocate  it,  and  for  the  very 
good  reason  that  it  would  be  a  strong  argument  against 
them.  If  the  soul  be  such  an  ultimate  particle,  then  it  can 
perish  only  by  annihilation,  and  it  seems  to  be  a  principle 
in  the  government  of  God  not  to  annihilate  anything. 
What  we  call  destruction  is  simply  a  change  of  form, 
never  an  annihilation  of  substance. 

Is,  then,  the  power  of  thought  the  j^roperty  of  a  number 
of  particles  of  matter  united  together? 

Here  again  we  must  look  at  the  constitution  of  matter. 
Concerning  this  there  are  two  suppositions.  One  is  that  of 
Boscovich,  and  was  adopted  by  Priestly,  a  distinguished 


THOUGHT  SIMPLE.  279 

materialist.  The  snpposition  is  that  what  we  call  matter 
consists,  not  of  solid  particles,  but  of  centres  of  attraction 
and  repulsion.  As  other  philosophers  have  said,  take  away 
solidity  and  matter  vanishes,  so  Priestly  says  expressly, 
**  Take  away  attraction  and  repulsion  and  matter  vanishes." 
This  seems  to  me  to  deny  the  existence  of  matter  as  a  sub- 
stance, though  not  as  a  force,  and  it  cannot  be  necessary 
in  opposing  mateiialism  to  show  that  thought  cannot  be 
the  property  of  a  number  of  centres  of  attraction  and  re- 
pulsion, when,  by  the  supposition,  those  centres  themselves, 
as  mateiial  bodies,  do  not  exist. 

We  take  next  the  common  supposition  that  matter  con- 
sists of  solid  extended  particles  of  great  minuteness. 

Whether  such  particles  are  ever  so  united  that  there  is 
actual  contact  between  them  is  not  decided ;  but  whether 
there  is  or  not,  we  must  remember  they  are  separate  and 
independent  bodies,  and  that  a  body  which  we  call  one  is 
not  a  unit,  but  a  collection  of  units  to  which  we  give  a 
common  name.  There  is  no  unity  till  we  come  to  ultimate 
particles,  or  to  mind. 

Now  the  supposition  is  that  thought,  though  not  the 
property  of  any  one  of  these  particles  separately,  is  yet  the 
property  of  a  number  of  them,  greater  or  less,  united  to- 
gether. 

But  this  is  surely  contradicted  by  the  consciousness  of 
every  man  in  regard  to  the  oneness  of  that  being  which  he 
calls  himself.  It  is  also  contradicted  by  the  nature  of  the 
mental  phenomena,  as  thought,  feeling,  consciousness, 
which  are  simple,  and  incapable  of  division.  If  this  dpc- 
trine  be  true,  then  the  thought,  originating  not  solely  in 
one  particle,  but  in  a  number,  must  come,  part  of  it 
from  one,  and  part  from  another,  and  what  is  thus  made 
np  by  composition  may  be  again  divided.    According,  to 


280  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

this  there  would,  as  has  been  said,  be  no  impropriety  in 
speaking  of  the  half  or  the  eighth  of  a  thought,  of  the  top 
and  bottom  of  a  feeling,  of  the  east  and  west  end  of  con- 
sciousness. 

But,  again,  if  this  doctrine  were  true,  there  could  not 
only  be  no  such  thing  as  simple  indivisible  thought,  but 
there  could  be  no  personal  identity.  Our  bodies  undergo 
constant  change;  they  are  no  more  the  same  bodies  for 
two  days  together  than  the  stream  which  we  pass  over  on 
two  successive  days  is  the  same  water.  The  brain  partici- 
pates in  these  changes.  I  remember  now  what  happened 
when  I  was  four  years  old ;  but  there  is  not  in  my  system 
now  one  particle  of  matter  that  was  there  then.  How, 
then,  does  this  new  matter  know  what  happened  to  the  old? 
How  can  this  consciousness,  this  sense  of  identity,  be  trans- 
ferred from  one  particle  to  another?  According  to  this, 
we  should  be  undergoing  a  continual  death,  for,  as  the 
whole  brain  dies  when  it  ceases  to  think,  so  there  must  be 
some  particles  of  it,  as  they  are  passing  off,  constantly  giv- 
ing up  the  ghost,  and  leaving  their  transitory  honors  to 
their  successors.  And  these  others,  —  how  are  they  ex- 
alted !  That  which  was  yesterday  a  portion  of  a  potato  or 
of  a  calf's  brains,  may  to-day  become  a  part  of  the  soul  of 
a  philosopher!  That  there  are  any  who  believe  this  is 
the  most  plausible  argument  that  I  know  that  their  souls 
are  thus  made. 

In  reply  to  this  objection  I  have  never  seen  anything 
better  than  the  following  ironical  answer  from  Martinus 
Scriblerus  :  "  Sir  John  Cutler  had  a  pair  of  black  worsted 
stockings  which  his  maid  darned  so  often  with  silk  that 
they  became  at  last  a  pair  of  silk  stockings.  Now,  sup- 
posing those  stockings  of  Sir  John's  endued  with  some 
degree  of  consciousness  at  every  particular  darning,  they 


MATERIALISM.  281 

would  have  been  sensible  that  they  were  the  same  indi* 
vidiial  pair  of  stockings  both  before  and  after  the  darning, 
and  this  sensation  would  have  continued  in  them  through 
all  the  succession  of  darnings,  and  yet,  after  the  last  of  all, 
there  was  not,  perhaps,  one  thread  left  of  the  first  pair  of 
stockings,  but  they  had  grown  to  be  silk  stockings,  as  was 
said  before." 

But  however  conclusive  the  above  arguments  may  seem, 
I  am  aware  that  I  have  not  yet  touched  the  real  difficulty 
as  it  lies  in  your  minds,  if  you  have  been  accustomed  to 
read  a  particular  class  of  writings  on  this  subject.  It  is, 
that  thought  is  never  manifested  except  in  connection 
with  a  brain  or  nervous  system,  on  which  it  seems  to 
depend ;  that  as  one  changes  the  other  changes ;  when  the 
brain  is  diseased,  thought  is  disordered,  and  when  that 
ceases  to  act  thought  ceases  to  be  manifest.  That  it  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  any  one  particle  in  distinction 
from  the  others  has  the  power  of  thought,  but  that  it  is 
the  one  simple  result  of  the  combined  action  of  the  whole, 
just  as  music  is  the  result  of  the  combined  action  of  the 
fiddle-bow  and  the  fiddle,  or  as  secretion  is  the  result  of 
the  action  of  the  gland.  This,  I  think,  is  a  fair  statement 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  materialists,  and  of  the  kind  of 
analogies  by  which  it  is  supported. 

In  reply  to  this  I  observe,  first,  that  we  have  evidence 
of  the  existence  of  thought  without  a  brain  or  nervous  sys- 
tem, or  we  have  no  evidence  of  the  existence  and  intelli- 
gence of  God,  or  of  any  spiiitual  being.  If  there  be  such 
beings,  doubtless  the  principle  of  thought  is  the  same  in  us- 
as  in  them. 

But  allowing  that  we  have  no  such  evidence,  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  statement  is  absurd,  for  it  sup- 
poses the  whole  to  have  properties  which  do  not  belong 

24* 


282.  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

to  the  parts  separately.  In  a  piece  of  silver,  however 
small,  we  have  all  the  properties  we  can  have  in  a  mass  as 
large  as  a  mountain. 

But  music  is  not  the  property  of  the  fiddle,  or  of  the 
bow,  but  the  result  of  the  combined  action  of  the  two. 
What,  then,  is  music  ?  What  is  done  in  this  case  ?  Why, 
the  fiddle  and  the  bow  have  motion  of  a  particular  kind  in 
their  particles.  This  is  communicated  to  the  atmosphere, 
producing  vibrations.  These  vibrations  are  no .  more  one 
than  the  "  gales  of  Araby  the  blest,"  and  of  Lapland. 
They  proceed  to  the  ear,  and  by  means  of  that  make  a 
series  of  impressions  upon  the  mind  which  we  group  under 
one  name  and  call  music.  The  only  one  effect  produced 
by  the  fiddle,  or  the  bow,  or  both  together,  is  motion,  and 
this  is  a  property  or  result  that  belongs  to  all  the  parts. 
There  is  no  music  till  the  motion  reaches  the  perceiving 
mind,  which,  having  an  antecedent  unity,  makes  to  itself  a 
unity  of  that  which,  without  it,  had  been  nothing  but  a 
succession  of  different  motions.  Here  certainly  is  no  new 
property  acquired  by  the  aggregation  of  parts,  no  unity 
like  that  of  thought,  nor  indeed  any  unity  at  all  except 
that  which  is  derived  from  the  mind  itself.  A  man  might 
as  well  speak  of  the  unity  of  the  particles  which  cause 
smell  because  they  produce  one  odor,  as  of  any  unity  there 
is  in  music  till  it  reaches  the  mind. 

But  does  not  the  brain  secrete  thought  as  the  liver  does 
bile  ?  This  is  a  favorite  theory  with  some  physiologists. 
To  this  there  are  three  objections:  1st.  The  liver  does 
not  secrete  bile  as  mere  matter.  A  dead  liver  will  not  do 
it,  and  if  there  were  not  some  one  principle  of  life,  differ- 
ent from  matter,  working  through  the  liver,  it  would  not 
do  it.  2d.  The  bile  that  is  secreted  is  made  up  of  sep- 
arate particles  of  matter,  and  has  no  unity  as  thought  ha& 


THE  MIND  AND  THE  BODY.  285 

3d.  Thought  is  immaterial,  and  it  seems  absurd  to  suppose 
that  an  immaterial  result  can  be  secreted  by  a  material 
organ. 

Than  the  analogies  just  given  I  know  of  none  stronger. 
Particles  of  matter  may  be  so  accumulated  and  arranged 
as  to  produce  an  effect  upon  the  mind  or  upon  other  mat- 
ter different  from  that  produced  before,  and  may  require  a 
new  name,  but  they  thus  get  no  new  quality  or  property 
like  the  power  of  thought.  Here  is  a  single  particle.  It 
has,  by  the  definition  of  matter,  magnitude,  figure,  mobility, 
and  if  any  one  shall  choose  to  add  color  I  will  not  now 
object.  Now,  you  may  add  other  particles  to  this  in  any 
way  you  please,  and  unless  you  change  the  definition  of 
matter  you  can  have  nothing  but  varieties  of  color,  figure, 
motion,  and  magnitude. 

But  it  is  said  that  the  mind  and  brain  increase  together, 
are  mutually  affected,  and  decay  together.  This  is  true  to 
a  certain  extent,  but  with  such  exceptions  and  limitations 
as  to  destroy  the  force  of  the  argument.  "  It  is  certain," 
says  Lord  Brougham,  "  that  the  strength  of  the  body,  its 
agility,  its  patience  of  fatigue,  indeed  all  its  qualities,  de- 
cline from  thirty  at  the  latest,  and  yet  the  mind  is  improv- 
ing rapidly  from  thirty  to  fifty,  suffei-s  little  or  no  decline 
before  sixty,  and  therefore  is  better  when  the  body  is  en- 
feebled at  the  age  of  fifty-eight  or  fifty-nine  than  it  was  in 
the  acme  of  the  corporeal  fiiculties  thirty  years  before.  It 
is  equally  certain  that  while  the  body  is  rapidly  decaying 
between  sixty  or  sixty-three  and  seventy,  the  mind  suffers 
hardly  any  loss  of  strength  in  the  generality  of  men ;  that 
men  continue  till  seventy-five  or  seventy-six  in  the  posses- 
sion of  all  their  mental  powers,  while  few  can  then  boast 
of  more  than  the  remains  of  physical  strength,  and  in- 
stances are  not  wanting  of  persons,  who,  between  eighty 


284  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

and  ninety,  or  even  older,  when  the  body  can  hardly  be 
said  to  live,  possess  every  faculty  of  the  mind  unimpaired. 
The  ordinary  course  of  life,  therefore,  presents  the  mind 
and  the  body  running  courses  widely  different,  and  in 
great  part  of  the  time  in  opposite  direction;  and  this 
affords  strong  proof  both  that  the  mind  is  independent  of 
the  body,  and  that  its  destruction  in  the  period  of  its 
entire  vigor  is  contrary  to  the  analogy  of  nature."  Of  the 
above  statements  Lord  Brougham  is  himself  a  distinguished 
example. 

No  doubt  we  are  intimately  connected  with  certain  por- 
tions of  matter.  We  are  so  with  our  limbs ;  but  cut  them 
off  and  there  is  no  loss  to  the  mind.  Yet  these  were  por- 
tions of  matter  by  means  of  which  we  had  felt  and  com- 
municated with  the  external  world.  Our  connection  with 
the  brain  may  be  more  intimate,  but  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  it  to  be  of  a  different  kind.  Parts  of  the  brain 
may  be  ulcerated,  removed  by  operations  or  by  accident, 
and  the  man  still  remain  the  same.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  one  piece  of  matter  by  means  of 
which  we  perceive  is  any  part  of  ourselves  more  than 
another.  By  means  of  glasses  we  see  objects  that  we 
could  not  without  them.  The  same  is  true  of  the  eye. 
The  eye  is  only  an  optical  instrument  which  we  carry  in 
our  heads  instead  of  our  pockets,  and  we  have  no  more 
reason  for  supposing  it  a  part  of  ourselves  than  we  have 
for  supposing  a  telescope  a  part  of  ourselves. 

As  to  the  decay  of  old  age  and  the  effects  of  disease 
and  injury  upon  the  brain,  they  are  only  what  might  nat- 
urally be  expected.  To  adopt  the  words  of  an  old  English 
poet,  Sir  John  Davis,  — 

"  For  these  defects  in  sense's  organs  be, 

Not  in  the  soul,  nor  in  her  working  might; 


THE  BODY  AN  INSTRUMENT.  285 

She  cannot  lose  her  perfect  power  to  see,  . 
Though  mists-and  clouds  do  choke  her  window  light. 

*♦  These  imperfections,  then,  we  must  Impute 
Not  to  the  agent,  but  the  instrument ; 
We  must  not  blame  Apollo,  but  his  lute. 
If  false  accords  from  her  false  strings  be  sent  i 

*•  As  a  good  harper  stricken  far  in  years, 

Into  whose  cunning  hands  the  gout  doth  All, 
All  his  old  crotchets  in  his  brain  he  bears, 
But  on  his  harp  plays  ill,  or  not  at  all." 

The  most  skilful  singer  may  have  a  cold,  the  best  musi- 
cian a  cracked  fiddle,  the  best  eye  can  see  but  imperfectly 
through  furrowed  glass.  Speaking  of  this  connection  and 
distinction  between  the  agent  and  the  instrument,  Cicero 
says :  "  Suppose  a  person  to  have  been  educated  from  his 
infancy  in  a  cottage  where  he  enjoyed  no  opportunity  of 
seeing  external  objects  except  through  a  small  chink  in 
the  window-shutter,  would  he  not  consider  this  chink  as 
essential  to  his  vision,  and  would  it  not  be  diflScult  to  per- 
suade him  that  his  prospect  would  be  enlarged  by  demol- 
ishing the  walls  of  his  prison  ?  "  You  see  the  application. 
Old  age  is  the  gradual  closing  up  of  this  chink,  but  death 
is  the  pulling  down  of  the  walls  of  his  cottage  and  letting 
in  the  broad  daylight  upon  him. 

From  a  consideration,  then,  of  the  nature  of  the  soul,  so 
far  as  we  can  judge  of  it  from  its  attributes,  we  believe  it 
has  an  existence  independent  of  the  body,  and  that  it  is  of 
such  a  nature  that  it  can  perish  only  by  annihilation,  which 
we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  ever  occurs  in  regard  to  the 
most  inconsiderable  of  the  works  of  God. 

We  now  pass  from  the  argument  from  the  nature  of  the 
ioal  as  a  substance,  and  its  connection  with  the  body,  and 


286  LECTTIRES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

proceed  to  others  derived  from  its  faculties  and  situation 
in  this  life. 

The  first  that  I  shall  mention  is  the  general  and  well- 
nigh  universal  belief  of  this  doctrine.  Travellers  have  said 
that  they  could  discover  no  traces  of  this  belief  among 
certain  tribes.  But  those  who  pass  through  a  tribe  igno- 
rant of  its  language  and  customs  are  incompetent  judges 
on  such  a  point,  and  it  has,  I  believe,  been  found  in  every 
instance,  after  fuller  investigation,  that  such  a  belief  did 
exist.  If  it  do  not,  it  is  only  among  those  who  are  raised 
but  one  degree  above  the  brutes,  and  whose  faculties  con- 
sequently have  not  been  developed.  Certainly  the  belief 
is  so  universal  that  it  must  be  supposed  to  be  the  work  of 
nature.  It  arises  directly  and  without  reflection  from  our 
natural  desire  of  continued  existence,  and  from  the  expec- 
tations excited  by  the  action  of  the  moral  nature  in  hope 
and  remorse. 

Can  we,  then,  reason  from  the  constitution  of  our  nature 
to  its  destiny  ?  — from  the  expectations  which  that  nature 
instinctively  excites  to  our  future  condition  ?  If  not,  we 
can  reason  from  nothing,  for  nature  is  not  constituted  on 
the  principle  of  good  faith.  It  is  said,  indeed,  that  the 
above  principles  subserve  beneficial  purposes  in  this  life, 
and  that  they  were  given  for  that  purpose  alone.  But  if 
so,  nature  has  mingled  them  in  the  constitution  too  largely. 
She  has  so  constituted  them  that  man  does,  in  fact,  expect 
a  future  life.  Besides,  if  they  were  given  for  this  life  only, 
why  is  hope  strongest  in  the  aged  and  the  good,  and  why, 
especially,  does  remorse  increase  in  the  guilty  as  death  ap- 
proaches ?  The  appetites  were  given  for  this  life,  and  they 
grow  weaker  with  age.  What  must  be  thought  of  the 
honesty  of  a  system  in  which  it  should  turn  out  that  the 


WANT  OP  ADAPTATION.  287 

hope  of  the  good  man  -was  a  lie,  and  the  fear  of  the  bad 
one  a  phantom  ? 

A  second  argument  is,  that  while  there  is  throughout 
nature  an  exact  adaptation  of  everything  else,  especially 
of  every  animal  in  its  structure  and  instincts,  to  its  situa- 
tion and  end,  if  man  is  to  exist  in  this  life  only,  we  find  no 
such  adaptation  either  in  his  intellect  or  in  his  affections. 

While  the  brutes  have  no  curiosity,  instinct  supplying 
the  place  of  experience  and  of  investigation,  man  wishes 
to  know  not  only  the  use  of  things,  but  their  nature,  and 
that  not  alone  of  things  with  which  he  is  or  can  be  con- 
nected in  this  life.  His  curiosity  fixes  upon  bodies  the 
most  remote  as  if  they  were  his  own  proper  province 
which  he  was  one  day  to  investigate  and  understand.  He 
sees  the  mountains  and  valleys  of  the  moon ;  he  follows 
the  track  of  the  comet ;  he  wonders  at  the  rings  of  Saturn ; 
he  explores  the  nebulae,  and  inquires  after  the  "  architec- 
ture of  the  heavens."  He  knows  just  enough  of  these 
bodies  to  raise  his  curiosity,  but  not  enough  to  satisfy  it. 
His  intellect  is  to  the  distant  universe  just  what  the  eye 
of  the  child  is  to  this  world  when  it  first  opens  upon  it.  It 
sees  a  little,  it  is  adapted  to  see  more ;  shall  it  be  quenched 
forever  even  before  it  has  learned  to  see  ?  And  not  only 
does  the  intellect  seek  to  know  the  physical  universe, 
it  also  inquires  after  God.  It  says,  "Where  is  God  my 
Maker  ? "  It  is  capable  of  knowing  that  God  as  seen  in 
dim  reflection  from  his  works.  And  will  God,  having  re- 
vealed himself  thus  dimly,  withdraw?  The  twilight  of 
this  liighest  of  all  knowledge  having  dawned  on  the  soul, 
shali  the  sun  go  back  ? 

Nor  is  the  want  of  adaptation  in  the  affections  less  than 
in  the  intellect.    Even  more  than  curiosity  do  the  yearn- 


288  LECTURES  01?  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

ings  of  affection  seem  like  those  mute  promises  of  nature 
which  we  observe  in  the  animal  world,  and  which  are 
there  always  fulfilled.  Has  the  chrysalis  wings  that  are 
folded  within?  There  is  an  atmosphere  prepared  with- 
out in  which  it  can  fly.  Does  the  bee  perceive  a  fragrance 
on  the  air?  There  is  a  flower  on  which  it  can  alight. 
And  shall  man  be  as  the  bee  that  should  perceive. the 
fragrance  but  not  find  the  flower?  Shall  bereaved  love 
cherish  hope  till  death  only  to  be  disappointed?  The 
only  interpretation  of  affection  yearning  for  something 
higher  than  this  world  can  give,  and  the  only  solace  of 
that  which  is  bereaved,  is  to  be  found  in  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  life. 

A  third  argument  is,  that  while  individuals  of  every 
other  species  attain  all  the  perfection  of  which  their  na- 
ture admits,  there  is  evidently  a  foundation  laid  in  the 
nature  of  man  for  an  indefinite  progression. 

A  tree  rises  from  its  seed,  it  increases  for  many  years,  it 
is  beautiful  to  the  eye,  it  yields  fruit,  it  furnishes  shade. 
If  it  were  to  remain  forever  it  could  do  nothing  worthier 
or  better.  It  has  attained  perfection  as  a  tree.  So  an 
animal  reaches  in  a  short  time  the  limit  of  its  powers. 
Destitute  of  reason,  of  a  moral  nature,  of  the  power  of 
forming  general  ideas  and  following  general  rules,  it  goes 
on  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  destiny  guided  by  instinct  and 
by  particulars,  and  could  not,  without  a  different  kind  of 
powers,  make  any  essential  progress.  It  is  perfect  as  an 
animal.  The  structure,  though  humble,  is  complete.  It 
has  its  capitals  and  its  dome.  But  no  one  can  say  that 
man,  considered  as  a  rational  and  moral  being,  reaches 
here  the  perfection  for  which  a  foundation  is  laid  in  the 
nature  of  his  powers.    The  philosopher  who  has  traversed 


AfiGX^ENlP  FROM  ANALOGY.  289 

the  circuit  of  human  knowledge,  and  has  pitched  his  tent 
upon  its  outposts,  not  only  does  not  approach  the  limits  of 
knowledge,  but,  what  is  important  to  our  present  argu- 
ment, he  does  not  find  his  pcxrers  burdened  or  embar- 
rassed by  the  knowledge  already  acquired.  On  the  con- 
trary, every  advance  which  he  makes  gives,  and  from  the 
nature  of  the  powers  must  give,  new  light  and  strength  to 
make  further  advances,  and  when  old  age  comes  he  only 
feels  himself  more  "  like  a  child  gathering  pebbles  on  the 
shore  of  the  great  ocean  of  truth."  So,  also,  and  more  so, 
is  it  with  the  good  man  making  progress  in  goodness.  His 
path  is  like  the  shining  light.  Shall  it  shine  more  and 
more  unto  the  perfect  day,  or  shall  it  go  out  in  darkness  ? 
Here,  then,  the  foundation  is  laid.  Shall  the  superstruc- 
ture go  up  ?  The  ocean  is  before  man,  shall  he  embark 
upon  it?  Or  shall  he,  who,  as  Shakspeare  says,  is  "so 
noble  in  reason,  so  infinite  in  faculties,  in  form  and  mov- 
ing so  express  and  admirable,  in  action  so  like  an  angel,  in 
apprehension  so  like  a  God,"  —  shall  he  be  left  the  only 
fragmentary  being,  as  if  God  had  completed  everything 
else  and  had  failed  in  his  gi-andest  undertaking ;  as  if  he 
had  indeed  made  him  not  only  the  "glory,"  but  the  jest 
and  riddle  of  the  world  ? 

Tha^  force  of  this  argument  from  the  nature  of  the 
human  powers  as  progressive,  is  greatly  heightened  when 
it  is  considered  in  connection  with  a  fourth  which  I  now 
adduce,  and  which  is  from  analogy. 

The  effect  of  this  argument  upon  our  minds  will  depend 
much  upon  the  care  with  which  we  have  studied  the 
works  of  God,  and  our  consequent  conviction  of  the  con- 
nection, and  uniformity,  and  consistency  of  those  works. 
It  was  once  supposed  that  different  parts  of  the  earth  were 

29 


LBCTCS^  as  MOE- 


^lor 


sjste: 


settle  .il  uniTeise  is  one   .  stem  in 

wluei  5  related  to  every  other  part.     Erery 

P„_:  ...  ,.-  Psieysays,  «tt-  '-/'■^-'-   --  ^'- 

r  _ii  and  to  otL 

is  so,  we  taj  thMt  it  is  eootnr 
— -  inteDectnal  and  moral  systt 
.0115  beyond  itB^  Theii.; 
efij  is  that  as  matte*  is  bete  sobordmated  to  mindy  it  is  so 
ekevbera^  and  tiiat  these  is  a  vast  istelleefcnal  and  moral 
system,  die  parts  of  vbidi  bare  idataons  that  are  to  be 
im&lded  in  &tare  lime.  I  beEere  Ihat  we  shall  one  day 
know  the  history  of  other  woiids  and  other  otdesB  cfbeii^ia^ 
and  that  they  will  know  oool  Gertm.  it  ii^  howerei^ 
that  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  gystem/  it  is  one  of  gmda- 
lioB  and  mntnal  dcpendeaee  £vm  the  in&ntefy  minute  up 
to  ma%eadi  that  is  bdowfaeo^  muted  to  Ihat  which  is 
aborc^  till  we  eame  to  man,  who  is  the  topmost  of  the 
STow,  does  die  aenes  stop  wilb  him?  Isitptob- 
see,anwedosec^diebodkB  and  gonfiag- 
into  the  eeotze  of  bis  beings  hj  w&h  be 
istol^bsUoa  ssmeidi^  above  hiaiythat  theee  win  be 
mtduBs^fimndoiiwlBciibemi^iix?  Oar  si^enor  knowl- 
rUgr  of  infmr  in  itin  rmmrrfinni  xtrrr  nr  n  £Tmt  idrimtyr 

«B  to  see  move  eowfJftely  what  is  waaitiatg  that 
be  wxoi^^  in  and  iaaa,witboat  discrepancy,  a  part  in  Ibe 
Bdlwoold 


feeir< 


-»«i«iq^ 


'MMmmdtmmfMmmSnmi 


^Wmm^m] 


rflHi 


292  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

would  be  much  strengthened.  Are  there  discoverable 
amidst  this  apparent  confusion  the  beginnings  of  a  right- 
eous administration,  which  carry  with  them  a  promise  of 
their  own  completion  ? 

This  is  a  subject  of  wide  compass,  and  for  its  full  illus- 
tration I  must  refer  you  to  a  chapter  lipon  it  in  Butler's 
Analogy.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  from  the  serenity  of  virtue 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  uneasiness  of  vice  on  the  other ; 
from  the  different  treatment  which  virtue  and  vice,  as 
such,  necessarily  receive  in  civil  society,  the  constitution 
of  which  is  natural ;  from  the  forebodings  of  conscience ; 
from  the  natural  tendencies  of  virtue  and  vice,  —  the  one 
tending  to  order  and  strength,  the  other,  though  it  may 
have  at  times  an  accidental  ascendency,  to  disorder  and 
confusion,  —  from  all  these  He  who  is  supreme  in  nature 
has  sufficiently  indicated  to  which  side  he  belongs.  His 
object  seems  to  be  to  manifest  himself  just  so  far  as  to 
give  room  for  moral  election,  —  to  give  such  indications 
of  his  will  as  may  suffice  for  the  sincere,  the  humble,  and 
the  diligent,  but  not  such  as  shall  be  obtrusive,  and  with- 
hold the  reckless,  through  fear,  from  puBsuing  their  own 
course. 

But  whatever  the  object  may  be,  certain  it  is  that  the 
moral  feelings  of  man  are  not  the  only  ground  of  argu- 
ment on  this  subject.  There  is  a  righteous  administration 
already  begun  here,  and  on  the  scroll  of  Providence,  as  it 
is  unrolled  in  its  grand  and  solemn  movements,  there  are 
written  characters,  which  vice,  if  it  were  not  infatuated, 
would  read  and  tremble.  If,  therefore,  there  be  no  future 
state  in  which  these  silent  prophecies  may  be  accom- 
plished, then  is  there  falsehood  inscribed  not  alone  on  the 
inteUectual  and  rational  powers,  not  alone  on  the  mere 
natural  government  of  God,  but  also  upon  his  moral  gov- 


NATURAL  CHANGES.  293 

ernment  so  far  as  it  can  be  discovered,  and  in  the  very 
sanctuary  of  the  moral  nature  of  man. 

If,  after  these  arguments,  there  should  still  remain  some 
vague  impression  that  in  the  shock  of  so  great  a  change  as 
that  of  death  the  principle  of  thought  should  not  survive, 
there  are  analogies  of  nature  which  may  bring  us  some 
relief.  If  all  the  philosophers  on  earth  had  been  shown  an 
egg  for  the  first  time,  and  been  asked  what  it  would  become, 
they  could  as  little  have  thought  it  possible  that  it  should 
be  such  a  creature  as  a  swan  or  a  peacock,  as  the  greatest 
skeptic  now  thinks  it  possible  for  man  to  survive.  Or,  to 
take  a  case  sometimes  thought  to  be  more  in  point,  what 
can  be  a  greater  change  than  the  chrysalis  undergoes  in 
its  manner  of  life,  when  it  passes  from  its  dormant  con- 
dition to  tliat  of  a  beautiful  butterfly,  seeming,  as  Bryant 
says,  "  a  living  blossom  of  the  air  "  ?  So  striking,  indeed, 
is  this  analogy  that  the  Greeks  gave  the  soul  the  same 
name  as  the  butterfly,  from  the  expectation  that  it  would 
undergo  a  similar  change. 

The  strongest  case,  however,  is  that  put  by  Butler.  It 
respects  the  change  in  man  from  the  mode  of  his  existence 
before  birth  to  that  which  he  at  present  enjoys.  He  is 
still  the  same  being,  but  his  mode  of  existence  was  so 
different  that  had  he  been  endowed  with  the  powers  of 
reason  he  would  have  been  much  less  able  to  fonn  any 
conception  of  his  present  mode  of  being  than  he  now  can 
of  a  future  state.  He  might  have  perceived  some  indica- 
tions in  his  structure,  as  in  the  eyes  and  the  lungs,  of  a 
preparation  for  a  state  then  future,  as  we  now  do  for  one 
still  future,  but  the  necessary  change  would  have  been 
quite  as  mysterious  as  that  which  must  pass  upon  us  at 
death. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  also,  in  thinking  of  this  change,  in 
24* 


294  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

what  part  of  our  nature  it  occurs.  We  have  two  modes 
of  being,  that  of  sensation  and  that  of  reflection,  which 
seem  in  a  great  degree  independent  of  each  other.  Re- 
flection, having  once  commenced,  is  independent  of  sensa- 
tion, and  is  most  active  and  intense  when  sensation  is 
weakest.  If  we  wish  to  reflect  we  shut  out  sensation. 
But  it  is  upon  the  sensitive  life  that  this  shock  of  death 
seems  to  spend  itself.  The  power  of  reflection  often  con- 
tinues in  full  vigor  up  to  the  last  moment.  Since,  then, 
the  power  of  reflection  is  so  independent  of  the  sensitive 
life,  and  of  the  organs  of  sensation,  it  seems  rational  to 
conclude  that  it  may  hereafter  maintain  a  separate  ex- 
istence. 

Such  are  some  of  the  arguments  drawn  from  nature 
which  I  would  urge  in  favor  of  the  probability  of  a  future 
life.  To  me  they  seem  to  have  no  little  weight.  But  if 
they  were  less  forcible  than  they  are,  so  that  their  oppo- 
nents could  bring  against  them  those  of  equal  or  greater 
force,  I  could  never  understand,  unless  something  difierent 
from  mere  argument  is  concerned,  the  triumph  which  some 
men  appear  to  feel  when  they  suppose  themselves  to  have 
quenched  the  hope  of  man,  and  to  have  levelled  them- 
selves with  the  clod.  Surely,  if  a  man  were  to  think  him- 
self obliged,  as  the  result  of  a  candid  investigation,  to 
believe  that  to  be  true  which  "nature  never  told,"  we 
should  expect,  instead  of  exulting,  that  he  would 

"  Kead,  nor  loudly  nor  elate, 
The  doom  that  bars  him  from  a  better  fate, 
Bat,  sad  as  angels  for  the  good  man's  sin, 
Weep  to  record,  and  blush  to  give  it  in." 

These  few  arguments  from  nature  for  a  future  life  I 
offer,  not  as  affording  absolute  proof,  but  a  presumption  so 
strong  thit  a  prudent  man  might  act  upon  it  even  if  he 


CONCLUSION.  295 

had  no  other  light;  a  presumption  stronger  than  that  upon 
which  we  often  act,  and  upon  which  it  would  be  madness 
not  to  act  in  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life.  I  wish,  also, 
to  have  you  see  that  skeptics  may  be  met  on  their  own 
ground,  and  that  no  impression  may  be  left  upon  your 
minds  which  shall  prevent  you  from  receiving  in  its  full/- 
force  the  evidence  for  that  revelation  by  which  alone,  in 
all  its  clearness,  "life  and  immortality  are  brought  to 
light." 


SUMMARY. 


Having  completed  the  several  lectures,  it  remains  to 
give  a  summary  of  the  course  of  thought  passed  over. 
That  course  has  been  one,  and  in  itself  entirely  simple. 

The  three  questions  proposed  concerning  duty  —  1st. 
What  ought  to  be  done  ?  2d.  Why  ought  it  to  be  done  ? 
3d.  How  ought  it  to  be  done  ?  —  we  attempted  to  answer 
by  a  consideration  of  ends.  We  saw  that  all  rational  ar- 
rangement, construction,  and  action,  must  have  reference 
to  an  end,  and  can  be  comprehended  only  in  the  light  of 
that  end ;  and  that  all  rules  and  laws  have  their  signifi- 
cance and  value  in  the  same  way. 

We  assumed  that  from  a  study  of  the  structure  of  man, 
physical  and  mental,  some  knowledge  may  be  gained,  not 
only  ot  his  separate  organs  and  faculties,  and  of  their  use, 
but  also  of  the  end  of  man  himself.  If  man  cannot  know 
his  own  end  there  can  be  no  philosophy  of  man  —  no  com- 
prehensive or  satisfactory  knowledge  of  him.  Whether  he 
could  know  this  as  he  now  is,  without  revelation,  may  be 
doubted.  There  is  no  philosophy  in  a  ruin ;  and  where 
the  Bible  has  not  been  it  does  not  appear  that  men  have 
retained  a  knowledge  of  their  end.  But  however  this  may 
be,  a  knowledge  of  the  end  must  greatly  aid  us  in  tracing 
the  arrangements  and  correlations  for  the  attainment  of 

996 


SUMMARY.  ^9t 

that  end,  and  so  of  comprehending  the  whole  system  as 
one  of  means  and  ends. 

Ends  were  distinguished  as  subordinate,  ultimate,  and 
supreme. 

As  the  conception  of  an  end  involves  that  of  some  good, 
we  considered  the  nature  and  sources  of  good.  This  we 
found  to  result  from  activity,  and  that  the  highest  good 
would  be  from  the  activity  of  the  highest  powers  in  a 
right  relation  to  their  highest  object.  We  discriminated 
the  different  kinds  of  good  as  it  comes  from  the  suscepti- 
bilities and  the  powers,  finding  from  one  what  is  distinc- 
tively pleasure,  from  the  other  happiness  and  blessedness. 

We  then  sought  to  classify  the  powers,  and  consequently 
the  good  derived  from  their  action,  as  higher  and  lower. 
In  doing  this  we  found  a  common  law  of  gradation,  and  fo 
of  activity  for  forces  and  faculties  —  for  those  forces  by 
which  the  universe  is  governed,  and  for  those  faculties  by 
which  man  ought  to  be  governed. 

Commencing  with  the  lowest  and  most  general  force 
known  to  us,  we  passed  up  till  we  came  to  vegetable  or 
organic  life,  where  a  great  transition  is  made,  and  which 
subordinates  to  itself  all  lower  forces.  We  then  came  to 
that  sensitiveness  and  intelligence  in  the  service  of  which 
life  works ;  and  then  to  those  rational  and  moral  powers 
in  which  is  personality,  and  by  which  we  are  made  in  the 
image  of  God.  At  every  step  from  the  lowest  sensitive- 
ness, while  we  found,  as  in  that,  an  end  in  itself,  we  also 
found  a  beautiful  subordination  to  that  which  is  higher, 
and  in  that  subordination  we  found  the  law  of  limitation 
for  the  activity  of  every  lower  power  and  faculty.  We 
saw  "how  perfectly  God  regards  this  law  in  that  part  of  the 
chain  where  our  wills  do  not  intervene,  and  how  perfect  is 
the  model  he  sets  before  us  for  the  regulation  of  our  own 


298  SUMMARY. 

lives.  We  saw  that  when  we  reached  the  highest  foi*ra  of 
activity  and  of  good  the  law  of  limitation  ceased,  and  be- 
came that  of  the  highest  capacity  of  the  faculties  in  a 
form  of  activity,  and  so  of  blessedness,  like  that  of  God 
himself.  Our  conception  of  him  is  that  he  is  perfectly 
blessed  in  a  holy  activity.  Being  made  in  the  image  of 
God,  our  whole  duty  and  end,  as  might  have  been  sup- 
posed, is  to  be  like  him ;  and  if  we  are  like  him  in  his 
activity  we  must  be  in  his  blessedness. 

In  thus  passing  upward  from  a  broader  basis,  retaining 
all  that  is  below,  and  adding  something  for  every  new  and 
narrower  platform,  till  we  reach  man  at  the  summit  of  the 
pyramid,  we  find  for  the  universe  so  far  as  we  know  it,  the 
principle  of  unity.  This  is  in  the  fact  that  each  lower 
force  is  always  the  condition  of  the  higher.  This  would 
give  us  a  universe ;  but  it  is  the  fact  that  each  lower  force 
is  precisely  such  in  degree  as  to  be  the  most  favorable  con- 
dition for  that  which  is  higher  that  gives  us  an  orderly 
universe.  This  fact  and  relation  we  find  everywhere  in 
nature,  —  in  all  the  systems  of  which  the  body  is  com- 
posed, from  the  digestive  upwards,  and  in  all  the  powers 
and  faculties  of  the  mind ;  and  everywhere  we  find  the 
proportion  of  force  accurately  observed  till  we  come  to 
the  intervention  of  finite  will.  We  thus  find  provision 
for  every  inferior  form  of  good.  We  omit  nothing ;  we 
undervalue  nothing.  We  find  provision  for  the  harmo- 
nious operation  and  symmetrical  growth  of  every  propen- 
sity, appetite,  and  power,  whether  of  body  or  of  mind,  and 
especially  full  provision  for  those  powers  by  which  man  is 
connected  with  what  is  infinite  and  eternal. 

Having  thus  obtained  a  knowledge  of  good  in  its 
sources  and  gradations,  we  proceeded  to  a  classification 
of  those  activities  and  faculties  in  which  good  originates. 


SUMMARY.  299 

And  here  we  considered  the  forms  of  mental  activity, 
first  as  spontaneous,  and  second  as  voluntary.  In  the  first 
we  found  a  spontaneous  or  automatic  life  which  is  condi- 
tional for  a  voluntary  life,  into  which  the  voluntary  or  per- 
sonal life  is  put,  as  into  a  garden,  to  dress  and  to  keep  it, 
and  which,  without  the  personal  life,  would  go  on  always  as 
the  mind  does  in  dreams,  and  be  a  thinking  thing.  Per- 
fection here  would  be  in  the  coincidence  of  the  two  with- 
out effort. 

We  then  proceeded  to  classify  the  faculties  as  they  are 
related  to  ends. 

Here  the  first  class  is  of  those  which  are  instrumental 
for  the  attainment  of  ends  beyond  themselves.  Under 
this  are,  first,  those  which  indicate  ends ;  and,  second,  those 
in  the  light  of  which  we  pursue  ends. 

The  second  class  are  those  powers  in  whose  activity  we 
find  ends  beyond  which  there  are  no  others,  and  which  are 
our  moral  nature. 

Under  the  first  class  we  considered  separately,  and  at 
some  length,  the  Instincts,  the  Appetites,  the  Desires,  and 
the  Natural  Affections.  We  considered  the  Intellect,  also, 
as  far  as  that  is  subject  to  the  will.  All  these  we  regarded 
as  having  no  moral  quality  in  themselves,  —  as  neither 
good  nor  evil,  except  as  they  are  controlled.  To  any  par- 
ticulars of  these  discussions  which  occupied  us  during  four 
lectures  we  need  not  now  recur. 

We  next  passed  upwards  to  those  powers  that  are  direc- 
tive, that  are  our  moral  nature,  and  in  whose  activity  are 
eqds  beyond  which  there  are  no  others.  These  we  found 
to  consist  of  the  moral  reason,  having  inseparably  con- 
nected with  it  moral  affections  and  conscience;  and  of 
free  will.  In  the  union,  or  rather  synthesis  of  these,  we 
found  a  person^  and  so  reached  the  highest  known  and 

22» 


800  SUMMARY. 

possible  form  of  being.  Not  that  the  person  is  composed 
of  these  as  elements,  but  that  this  person  is  as  a  simple 
form  of  being,  and  that  these  are  forms  of  its  manifesta- 
tion without  which  personality  could  not  be  conceived  of. 
Here  we  find  a  being  moral  and  responsible. 

In  the  activity  of  such  a  being,  naturally  knowing  his 
own  end,  and  necessarily  affirming  obligation  to  choose  it, 
we  have  the  intuitional  side  of  a  true  moral  system ;  and  in 
the  activity  of  the  discursive  and  practical  powers  in  coin- 
cidence with  this  we  have  its  inductive  side.  We  thus 
harmonize  intuitional  and  teleological  systems.  In  this 
connection,  also,  we  have  the  characteristic  of  complete 
virtue  or  holiness  as  manifesting  itself  in  two  directions ; 
we  have  the  point  of  moral  responsibility,  and  the  genesis 
of  our  chief  moral  ideas.  Here,  too,  we  considered  the 
moral  nature  in  its  double  function,  as  both  originating 
moral  acts,  and  judging  of  them ;  and  here  we  sought  for 
the  proper  sphere  of  conscience,  and  pointed  out  the  ambi- 
guity of  the  term. 

Of  a  person  thus  endowed  with  reason,  moral  affections, 
conscience,  and  free  will,  the  highest  form  of  activity  is 
rational  love ;  and  hence,  according  to  the  philosophical 
formula  for  the  highest  good,  we  found  it  here.  At  this 
point,  therefore,  we  identified  the  teachings  of  the  human 
constitution,  as  drawn  from  a  consideration  of  ends,  with 
the  summary  of  the  revealed  law  of  God  as  given  by  our 
Saviour. 

We  next  investigated  the  relation  between  holiness  or 
virtue,  and  happiness.  In  doing  this  we  distinguished  be- 
tween moral  good,  as  the  natural  and  necessary  result  of 
moral  goodness,  and  natural  good ;  and  also  considered  the 
good  there  is  from  the  approbation  of  goodness.  Moral 
good  and  that  from  approbation  were  shown  to  be  infal- 


SUMMARY.  SOI 

libly  connected  with  moral  goodness.  Natural  good  is  not 
necessarily  thus  connected,  but  there  is  a  tendency  towards 
it.  There  is  between  them  no  contrariety  or  opposition, 
or  "  antinomy,"  and  they  ought  to  be  connected  by  will 
in  the  way  of  reward.  That  they  are  not  thus  connected 
in  the  present  state,  is  an  evidence  of  disorder,  and  an 
indication  of  a  state  yet  future. 

In  connection  with  this  we  affirmed  the  duty  of  each 
one  to  secure  his  own  good  through  moral  goodness,  and 
found  that  this  was  not  only  compatible  with  the  good  of 
the  whole,  but  necessary  to  it,  —  thus  bringing  into  har- 
mony a  rational  self-love  and  benevolence. 

Regarding  not  only  the  quantity,  but  also  the  quality  of 
enjoyment,  we  saw  that  the  good  and  end  for  man  was 
not  to  be  found  either  in  holiness  by  itself,  or  in  happiness 
by  itself,  but  in  holy  happiness,  or  blessedness.  That  these 
are  thus  necessarily  united,  no  doubt  God  intended  we 
should  know;  also  that  we  should  seek  them  as  thus 
united ;  and  our  idea  of  perfection  is  the  highest  possible 
union  of  these,  together  with  all  natural  good  following  in 
their  train. 

In  determining,  next,  more  specifically,  the  sphere  of 
moral  science,  we  took  our  point  of  observation  at  the 
performance  of  an  outward  act,  and  going  backwards  to 
its  source,  we  found  an  immediate  recognition  of  the 
moral  quality  of  the  act  as  good  or  evil ;  while,  in  going 
forwards  and  outwards  to  its  consequences,  we  found  the 
ideas  of  utility,  and,  in  one  sense,  of  right  and  wrong.  In 
the  one  case  we  were  wholly  concenied  with  the  person 
and  the  motive ;  in  the  other,  with  the  outward  act  and 
its  results.     Separated  from  its  origin  in  a  person,  and  its 

otive,  an  act  can  have  no  moral  quality;  but  it  may 
be  outwardly  conformed  to  law,  and  have  consequences 

86 


SO^  SUMMARY. 

beneficial  or  injurious,  and  be,  in  ordinary  language,  right 
or  wrong;  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  show  the  confu- 
sion that  has  arisen  at  this  point,  and  the  need  of  greater 
precision  both  of  ideas  and  of  terms. 

We  also  considered  the  province  of  conscience,  its  infal- 
libility, the  two  spheres  in  which  it  acts,  and  its  relation 
to  other  active  principles ;  and  we  inquired  whether,  in 
order  to  be  virtuous,  an  act  must  be  done  from  a  sense  of 
duty. 

Leaving  personality  and  motives,  we  next  went  outward 
to  the  consideration  of  those  fixed  relations  established  by 
God,  and  which  indicate  his  will.  Here  we  saw  that  vir- 
tue and  rectitude  are  so  far  coincident  that  where  virtue 
exists  there  can  fail  to  be  rectitude  only  from  mistake; 
and  also  the  difference  between  those  calculable  conse- 
quences from  acting  in  violation  of  fixed  relations  or  in 
accordance  with  them,  and  those  incalculable  and  illimita- 
ble consequences  that  may  flow  from  guilt  or  its  reverse. 
We  sought  the  character  of  a  true  expediency,  and  the 
difference  between  prudence  and  virtue.  We  even  ven- 
tured to  speak  of  the  nature  of  God,  and  so  far  to  call  in 
question  the  common  view  as  to  suggest  whether  it  be  not 
his  nature  to  be  wholly  supernatural ;  and  whether  there 
can  be  anything  more  ultimate  for  the  conscience  than  his 
character  as  the  standard  of  moral  excellence,  and  his  will 
as  the  expression  of  that  character. 

At  the  opening  of  our  discussions  it  was  said  that  be- 
sides pursuing  an  end  as  rationally  comprehending  it,  we 
may  also  do  so  from  Instinct  and  from  Faith ;  and  we  next 
showed  that  between  the  action  of  these  and  of  reason 
there  might  so  be  a  coincidence  that  a  man  may  be  ra- 
tional in  acting  both  from  instinct  and  from  faith.  Reason 
and  faith  being  thus  reconciled ;  reason  being  at  the  basis 


SUMMARY.  MS 

of  moral  philosophy,  and  faith  being  the  distinctive  princi- 
ple of  religion,  just  as  it  is  in  the  relation  between  parent 
and  child,  it  was  easy  to  see  what  must  be  the  points  of 
coincidence  and  mutual  support  between  moral  philosophy 
and  religion,  whether  natural  or  revealed  —  whether  a  sys- 
tem of  pure  revealed  law,  or  of  forgiveness  and  restoration 
after  law  had  been  broken. 

We  next  had  before  us  the  subject  of  rights  as  con- 
nected with  our  previous  speculations.  We  showed  their 
origin  in  the  will  of  God  —  uttered  through  the  several 
active  principles  of  our  nature  —  that  man  should  attain 
his  end.  We  ascertained  their  gradations  as  growing  out 
of  previous  classifications.  We  drew  the  distinction  be> 
tween  alienable  and  inalienable  rights,  and  also  between 
those  over  persons  and  over  things.  We  showed  the 
foundation  and  limits  of  the  rights  of  parents  and  of  gov- 
ernments. We  spoke  of  liberty  in  its  various  kinds  as 
related  to  rights ;  also  of  the  rights  of  different  classes  of 
the  community ;  and  closed  by  a  reference  to  the  duty  of 
all  In  a  government  like  ours  to  secure  the  rights  of  all. 

In  the  closing  lecture  we  have  passed  from  the  relations 
of  time,  and  considered  the  great  question  of  a  future  life, 
thus  giving  to  morality  weightier  sanctions,  and  a  loftier 
perspective.  The  details  of  the  argument  we  need  not 
reproduce. 

We  have  thus,  my  friends,  in  accordance  with  that 
ancient  precept,  "know  thyself,"  which  is  said  to  have 
descended  from  heaven,  examined  the  human  constitution 
in  its  relation  to  ends.  In  doing  this  it  has  been  my  wish 
to  avoid  technical  terms,  and  to  appeal  directly  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  my  hearers.  That  appeal  has  been  met  by 
an  attention  that  has  been  all  I  could  desire.  Upon  such 
a  course  probably  no  independent  thinker  could   enter 


S04  StJMMARt. 

without  discovering  new  relations  both  between  the  fac- 
ulties themselves,  and  between  them  and  the  ends  for 
which  they  were  intended.  How  far  such  relations  have 
now  been  presented,  or  the  point  been  reached  towards 
which  the  great  lines  of  thought  converge,  you  will  judge. 
That  these  views  will  be  accepted  by  all,  I  do  not  expect. 
That  they  will  not  be  without  their  value  in  advancing 
the  science,  I  cannot  but  hope.  As  was  said  in  the  first 
lecture,  that  advance  must  be  slow ;  but  we  are  not  to  be 
discouraged.  The  moral  sphere  is  more  intimate  to  us 
than  any  other ;  it  is  the  highest  of  all ;  it  is  there  that  we 
find  our  true  selves ;  and  it  cannot  be  that  we  should  be 
capable  of  tracing  the  harmony  of  suns  and  of  planets, 
and  be  forever  incapable  of  apprehending  those  higher 
harmonies  which  we  have  now  attempted  to  trace,  be- 
tween man  and  nature,  between  man  and  himself,  between 
man  and  his  fellows,  and  between  man  and  God. 


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cents.  In  Two  Parts.  Part  First,  containing  Preliminary  Devel- 
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formal  and  concise  statements  of  the^ext.  Part  Second  contains 
Recitation  Lessons,  elegantly  illustrated  with  18  entirely  new 
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The  language  used  is  clear  and  simple,  and  can  easily  be  under- 
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CoUxm'a  Common  School  Geograj)hy,  (134  pages.)  $2.00. 
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Railroad  and  twelve  complete  Reference  Maps,  is  by  far  the  best  Series 
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The  Maps  have  been  constructed  with  the  single  idea  of  meeting  the  exact 
requirements  of  the  claaa-room,  and  removing  all  unnecessary  difficulty  in  their 
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The  Beries  is  rendered  very  attractive  by  the  tioo  large  double-paged  liailroad 
Mapty  constructed  on  an  entirely  original  plan,  on  which  all  tfie  great  routes  of 
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both  for  purpose*  of  study  and  reference. 

The  series  of  Reference  Maps  i«  fully  worth  the  entire  price  of  the  book,  and 
obrlates  tlie  necessity  of  any  other  maps  of  our  own  country  for  family  and 
reference  ose. 


HISTORIES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


Lossinff's  Primary  History  of  the   United  States. 

238  pages $1  00 

For  the  youngest  scholars,  and  illustrated  with  numerous 
engravings.    By  Benson  J.  Lossing,  LL.D. 

Lossing's  Outline  History  of  the    United  States, 

400  pages 1  25 

In  elegance  of  appearance  and  copious  illustrations, 

both  by  pictures  and  maps,  the  Outline  History  surpasses  any  book 
of  the  kind  yet  published. 

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me7it,  and  the  most  important  facts  in  our  history  are  presented  in  few 
words  and  small  space,  and  in  the  attractive  form  of  an  easy-flowing 
narrative. 

2.  The  narrative  is  divided  into  Six  ^istinct  Periods,  namely : 
Discoveries,  Settlements,  Colonies,  The  Revolution,  The  Nation,  and  The 
Civil  War  and  its  Consequences. 

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Bubstance  of  each  may  be  easily  comprehended. 

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heavy-faced  letter.    All  •proper  names  are  printed  in  italic  letter. 

5.  J^iell  Questions  are  framed  for  every  verse. 

6.  ji  ^7^onouncing  Vocabulary  is  furnished  in  foot-notes 
wherever  required. 

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section. 

8.  A7i  Outline  History  of  important  events  is  given  at  the 
close  of  every  chapter. 

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10.  The  Colonial  Seals  are  believed  to  be  the  only  stnctly  accu- 
rate ones  pyblished,  and  have  been  engraved  especially  for  this  book. 

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be  specially  remembe^^ed,  and  a  Topical  ^J^eview  constitute 
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ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 

SHAW'S  NEW  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  LIT- 
ERATURE 

404  Pages.  $1.30. 
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for  teaching  this  subject  in  Academies  and  High  Schools,  with  copious  references 
to  "The  Choice  Specimens  of  English  and  American  Literature."  It  contains  a 
map  of  Britain  at  the  close  of  the  sixth  century,  showing  the  distribution  of  its 
Celtic  and  Teutonic  population ;  also  diagrams  intended  to  aid  the  student  in 
remembering  important  classifications  of  authors. 

CHOICE  SPECIMENS  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE  AND 
LITERARY  READER. 

518    Pages.      $1.80. 
Selected  from  the  works  of  American  authors  throughout  the  country,  and 
designed  as  a  text-book,  as  well  as  Literary  Reader  in  advanced  schools.     By 
Benj.  N.  Martin,  D.  D.,  L.  H.  D. 

^^^^^A 

DR.  FRANCIS  WAYLAUD'S 


INTELLECTUAL  PHILOSOPHY  {Elements  of). 

426    Pages.      $L78. 
By  Francis  Wayland,  late  President  of   Brown  University. 
This  work  is  a  standard  text-book  in  Colleges  and  High  Schools. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

By  Francis  Wavland,  D.  D.,  President  of  Brown  University,  and  Professor  of 
Moral  Philosophy. 

Fiftieth   Thousand.      12mo,    cloth,    $1.73. 

•»♦  This  work  has  been  highly  commended  by  Reviewers,  Teachers,  and 
others,  and  has  been  adopted  as  a  class-book  in  most  of  the  collegiate,  theologi- 
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ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 

By  Francis  Wayland,  D.  D.,  President  of  Brown  University. 

Twenty-sixth    Thousand.        12mo,    cloth,    $1.73. 

•♦*  This  important  work  of  Dr.  Waylaod*s  is  fast  taking  the  place  of  every 
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By  Joseph  Aldek,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  President  of  the  State  Normal  School,  Al- 
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This  book  was  prepared  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  the  subjects  of  which  it 
treats  in  a  manner  adapted  to  their  study  in  Common  Schools.  It  has  been 
extensively  adopted,  and  is  widely  used,  with  most  gratifying  results.  It  is  intro- 
ductory to  this  author's  larger  book. 

T£rj^    SCIUJVCU    or    GOrUI^JV'MUJVT, 

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By  Dr.  Alden.  Intended  as  a  text-book  on  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
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PATTERSON'S  COMMON  SCHOOL  SPELLER. 
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PATTERSON'S  SPELLER  AND  ANALYZER. 

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much  of  the  derivation  and  formation  of  words  as  can  be  learned  in  the  time  al- 
lotted to  Spelling. 

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for  reviews. 

Sy  ike  use  of  these  'Stank  JSxercise  Soaks  a  class  of  four  hundred  may  ^ 
in  thirty  minutes^  spell  fifty  words  each,  making  a  total  of  20,000  words,  and 
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OLNEY'S  HIGHER  MATHEMATICS. 


There  is  one  feahire  which  characterizes  this  series,  so  unique  and  yet  so  emi- 
nently practical,  that  we  feel  desirous  of  calling  special  attention  to  it.  It  is  Ihe 
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series  is  so  constructed  that  it  may  be  used  with  equal  ease  by  the  youngest  and 
least  disciplined,  and  by  those  who  in  more  mature  years  enter  upon  the  study 
■with  more  ample  preparation.  This  will  be  seen  most  clearly  by  a  reference  to 
the  separate  volumes. 

Introduction  to  Algebra $1  00 

Com2)lete  School  Algebra 1  50 

University  Algebra : 2  00 

Test  Examples  in  Algebra 75 

Elements  of  Geometi*y,     Separate 1  50 

Elements  of  Trigonometry.    Separate 150 

Introduction  to  Geometry.     Parti.    Separate 75 

Geometry  and  Trigonometry,    School  Edition 2  50 

Geometry  €ind   Trigonometry,   without  Tables  of 

Logarithms.     University  Edition 2  50 

Geometry  and   Trigonometry,  with  Tables.    Uni- 
versity Edition 3  00 

Tables  of  Logarithms.     Flexible  covers 75 

Geometry,     University  Edition.     Parts  I,  II,  and  III. . .  2  00 

General  Geometry  and  Calculus 2  50 

Bellotvs's  TtHgonometry 150 


There  is  scarcely  a  College  or  Normal  School  in  the 
United  States  that  Is  not  now  using  some  of  Prof.  Olney's 
Mathematical  works. 

They  are  original  and  fresh— attractive  to  both  Teacher 
and  Scholar. 

Prof.  Olney  has  a  very  versatile  mind,  and  has  suc- 
ceeded to  a  wonderful  degree  in  removing  the  difficulties 
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OLNEY'S  SERIES  OF  ARITHMETICS. 

A  t-ull  Common  School  Course  in  Two  Books. 

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OLNEY'S  ELEMENTS  OF  ARITHMETIC,  85  cents. 

A  few  of  the  characteristic  features  of  the  Primary  Arithme- 
tic are : 

/.  :4daj)tabiliiy  to  use  in  our  Primary  Schools— furnishing  models  of  exer- 
cises on  every  topic,  suited  to  class  exercises  and  to  pupils'  work  in  their  seats. 

2.  It  is  based  upon  a  tfiorougfi  analysis  of  the  child-mind  and  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  Science  of  Numbers. 

3*  Sintpliciiy  of  plan  and  naturalness  of  treatment. 

4.  Recognizes  the  distinction  between  learning  how  to  obtain  a  result 
and  committing  that  result  to  memory, 

6.  Is  full  of  practical  expedients,  helpful  both  to  teacher  and  pupil. 
6>  Embodies  the  spirit  of  the  A'indergartett  met/tods, 

7.  I*  beautifully  illustrated  by  pictures  which  are  object  lessons,  and 
not  mere  ornaments. 

The  Elements  of  Arithmetic. 

This  is  a  practical  treatise  on  Arithmetic,  furnishing  in  one  book  of  308 
pages  all  the  arithmetic  compatible  with  a  well-balanced  common-school  course, 
or  necessary  to  a  good  general  English  education. 

The  jtrocesses  usually  styled  Mental  Arithmetic  are  here  assimi- 
lated and  made  the  basis  of  the  more  formal  and  mechanical  methods 
called  yV^rit I  en  Arithmetic. 

Therefore,  by  the  use  of  this  book,  from  one-third  to  one-half  the  time 
usually  devoted  to  Arithmetic  in  our  Intermediate,  Grammar,  and 
Common  Schools  can  be  saved,  and  better  results  secured. 


These  books  will  both  be  found  entirely  fresh  and  original  in  plan,  and 
in  mechanical  execution  ahead  of  any  offered  to  the  public.  No  expense  has 
been  spared  to  give  to  Professor  Olney's  Series  of  Mathematics  a  dress 
worthy  of  their  original  and  valuable  features. 

A  Teacher's 

HAND-BOOK  OF  ARITHMETICAL  EXERCISES, 

to  accompany  the  ELEMENTS  OF  ARITHMETIC,  is  now  ready.  This  book 
furnishes  an  exhaustless  mine  from  which  the  teacher  can  draw  for  exercise 
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The  advanced  book  of  the  Series,  is  a  full  and  complete  course  for  High 
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KENDRICK'S  XENOPHON'S  ANABASIS. 

533  Pages.    Price  $2.00. 
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Ten  Thousand,  Introduction,  full  though  brief  Notes,  and  complete  Vocabulary, 
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BULLIONS'S 

LATIN-ENGLISH   AND  ENGLISH-LATIN   DICTIONARY. 

(1,258  pages.)    This  book  has  peculiar  advantages  in  the  distinctness  of  the 
marks  of  the  quantities  of  Syllables,  the  Etymology  and  Composition  of  Words, 
Classification  of  Syllables,  Synonyms,   and   Proper  Names,   and    a   judicious 
Abridgment  of  Quotations.    For  cheapness  and  utility  it  is  unequalled. 
Price  $5.00. 

LONG'S  ATLAS  OF  CLASSICAL  GEOGRAPHY. 

This  Atlas,  by  George  Long,  M.  A.,  late  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, contains  fifty-two  Maps  and  Plans,  finely  engraved  and  neatly  colored ; 
with  a  Sketch  of  Classical  Geography,  and  a  full  Index  of  Places.  The  maps, 
showing  the  ideas  which  the  ancients  had  of  the  world  at  various  intervals  from 
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marches,  will  be  of  interest  and  advantage  ;  and  the  Atlas  will  be  of  great  help 
to  classical  students,  and  in  libraries  of  reference. 

Price  $4.00.    ' 

BAIRD'S  CLASSICAL  MANUAL. 

(200  pages.)  This  is  a  student's  hand-book,  presenting,  in  a  concise  form,  an 
epitome  of  Ancient  Geogfraphy,  the  Mythology,  Antiquities,  and  Chronology  of 
the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

Price  90  cents. 

l^OOKER'S  NEW  PHYSIOLOGY. 

376  Pages.    $1.60. 

Revised,  corrected,  and  put  into  the  most  perfect  form  for  text-book  use,  by  J. 
A.  Sewall,  M.  D„  of  the  Illinois  State  Normal  University. 

TAif  A^etf  'Phytioloffy  has  been  J^eM>ty  Blectrofyped  in  large-sized  type, 
asing  the  blaek- faced  type  to  bring  out  prominently  the  leading  ideas.  It 
contains  a  full  series  of  Quetfion*  at  the  end  of  the  book,  and  a  complete 
Glossary  and  Index. 

l^OPKINS'S  LECTURES  ON  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

Delivered  before  the  I^owell  Institute,  Boston,  by  Mark  Hopkins,  D.  D.,  Pres- 
of  Williams  College. 

Boyal  12ino,  cloth.     $1.60. 


DR.  JOSEPH  HAVEN'S 

VALUABLE   TEXT-BOOKS. 

Dr.  Haven's  text-books  are  the  outgrowth  of  his  long  experience 

as  a  teacher.     Prof.  Park,  of  Andover,  says  of  his  Mental  Philos. 

OPHY  :  "  It  is  distinguished  for  its  clearness  ©f  style,  perspicuity  of 

method,   candor   of   spirit,   accuracy   and   comprehensiveness    of 

thought." 

*♦• 

MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

1   vol.   12mo.      $2.00. 
fNCLUDING  THE  INTELLECT,  THE    SENSIBILITIES,  AND  THE  WILL. 

It  is  believed  this  work  will  be  found  pre-eminently  distinguished  for  the  com- 
pleteness with  which  it  presents  the  whole  subject 

MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

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Royal  12n(io,  cloth,  embossed.     $1.78. 

HISTORY  OF  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY, 

Price    $2.00. 


Dr.  Haven  was  a  very  able  man  and  a  very  clear  thinker.  He  was  for  many 
years  a  professor  in  Amherst  College,  and  also  in  Chicago  University.  He  pos- 
sessed the  happy  faculty  of  stating  the  most  abstract  truth  in  an  attractive  and 
interesting  form.  His  work  on  "Intellectual  Philosophy"  has  probably  had 
and  is  having  to-day  a  larger  sale  than  any  similar  text-book  ever  published  in 
this  country. 

From  GEORGE  WOODS,  LL.  D.,  President  Western  University  of  Pennsylvania. 
Gentlemen  :  Dr.  Haven's  History  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Philosophy  s-uj)- 
plies  a  f/reai  want.  It  gives  such  information  on  the  subject  as  many  stu- 
dents and  men,  who  have  not  time  fully  to  examine  a  complete  history,  need. 
The  material  is  selected  with  good  judgment,  and  the  work  is  written  in  the  au- 
thor's attractive  style.    I  shall  recommend  its  use  in  this  department  of  study. 

From  HOWARD  CROSBY,  D,  D.,  LL.  D.,  Chancellor  of  University  of  New  York. 

Messrs.  Sheldon  &  Co.  have  just  issued  a  very  comprehensive  and  yet  brief 
survey  of  the  History  of  Philosophic  Thought,  prepared  by  the  late  Dr.  Joseph 
Haven.    It  is  well  fitted  for  a  college  text-book. 

Its  divisions  are  logical,  its  sketch  of  each  form  of  philosophy  clear  and  dis- 
criminating, and  its  style  as  readable  as  so  condensed  a  work  ran  be.  I  know 
of  no  comjiendittm  which  gives  Ihe  bird's-eye  view  of  the  history  of 
phiiosophy  as  thorouffhty  as  this  hand-book  of  "Dr.  Haven, 

SHELDON    &    COMPANY, 

NEW    YORK. 


X 


/^ 


y^y'  .<^^ 


Sheldon  d;  Company's  2'ext-'Books. 


ASTROlSrOMIES. 

Brockleshy's  Common  School  Astronomy,  12mo.  173 
pages.  Tliis  book  is  a  compend  of 

Broeklesby^s  Elements  of  Astronomy .  By  John  Brock- 
LESBY,  Trinity  College,  Hartford,  Conn.  l2mo.  Fully  illus- 
trated.   Revised  Edition.    321  pages. 

In  this  admirable  treatise  the  author  has  aimed  to  preserve  the  great  prin- 
ciples and  facts  of  the  science  in  their  integrity,  and  so  to  arrange,  explain, 
and  illastrate  them,  that  they  may  be  clear  and  intelligible  to  the  student. 

HerscheVs  Outlines  of  Astronomy,  By  Sir  John  F.  W. 
Hebschel,  Bart.,  F.  R.  S.,  etc.  A  new  American,  from  the 
fourth  and  revised  London  edition.  Crown  octavo,  with  fine 
plates  and  woodcuts.    557  pp- 

Mattison^s  Primary  Astronomy.    168  pp. 

Mattison's  High  School  Astronomy,  252  pp. 

These  works  are  remarkable  for  their  accuracy  and  perspicuity,  as  well  as 
the  beauty  and  aptness  of  their  pictorial  illustrations. 

Burritt's  Geography  of  the  Heavens,  352  pp. 

JBurritt's  Celestial  Atlas,    Large  quarto. 
By  Prof.  HiBAM  Mattison,  A.  M.,  and  Elijah  H.  Burritt,  A.  M. 

The  popularity  of  these  standard  text-books  is  shown  by  its  sale  of  more 
than  300,000  copies.  Burritt' s  Geography  of  the  Heavens,  as  revised  by  Prof. 
Mattison,  is  one  •f  the  most  useful  and  successfal  school  books  ever  published. 

BULLIONS'S  LATIN  DIOTIONAEY. 

IBulUons's  Latin  Lexicon  (now  complete).  The  cheapest  and 
best  Latin-English  and  English-Latin  Lexicon  published.  1  vol. 
royal  octavo,  about  1400  pages. 

We  recently  published  a  copious  and  critical  Latin-English  Dictionary,  for 
the  use  of  schools,  etc.,  abridged  and  re-arranged  from  Riddle's  Latin-English 
Lexicon,  founded  on  the  German-Latin  Dictionaries  of  Dr.  Wm.  Freund  and 
others,  by  Eev.  P.  Bullions,  D.D.,  author  of  the  series  of  Grammars,  English, 
Latin,  and  Greek,  on  the  same  plan,  etc.,  etc.,  to  which  we  have  now  added  an 
English-Latia  Dictionary,  making  together  the  mopt  useful  and  coavenient,  at 
the  same  time  the  cheapest  Latin  Lexicon  published. 

Any  of  the  aboxie  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 


YB  30220 


Sheldo7i  &  Co7npany's  Text-Sooks. 


SHAW'S   NEW   SERIES 

ON 

ENGLISH  AND  AMEEICAN  LITEEATUEE. 


I. 

Shaw's  New  History  of  Enfjlish  and  American  Lit- 
erature. This  book  has  been  prepared  with  the 
greatest  care  by  Prof.  Truman  J,  Backus,  of  Vassar  College, 
using  as  a  basis  Shaw's  Manual,  edited  by  Dr.  William  Smith. 
The  following  are  the  leading  Icatures  of  the  book  : 


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M153145 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


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III.  

Simw's    Choice   Specimens    of   English    Literature, 

A  Companion  Volume  to  the  New  History  of  Literature.  Selected 
from  the  chief  English  writers,  and  arranged  chronologically  by 
Thos.  B.  Shaw  and  Wm.  Smith,  LL.D.  Arranged  and  enlarged, 
for  American  students  by  Ben  J.  N.  Martin,  D.D.,  L.II.D.,  Prof. 
of  Philosophy  and  Logic  in  the  University  of  the  City  of  New 
York.    1  vol.  large  12mo. 

We  shall  still  continue  to  publish 
Shaw*s  Complete  Manual  (tf  English  and  American 
Literature,  By  Thos.  B.  Shaw,  M.A.,  Wm.  Smith,  LL.D., 
author  of  Smith's  Bible  and  Classical  Dictionaries,  and  Prof, 
Ubnrt  T.  Tdckkiiman.  With  copious  notes  and  illustrations. 
1  vol.  large  ISmo,  540  pp. 


